


we'll meet again

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesia, Bad Geography, Extremely Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Human Bill Cipher, I know absolutely NOTHING about boats just a warning, M/M, Mentions of: Pacifica Northwest/Mabel Pines, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot-heavy, Post-Weirdmageddon, Road Trips, Slow Burn, extreme everything tbh., extremely plot heavy, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After invoking the God Xolotl during his death, Bill is tricked by the God and split into two beings: an amnesiac living in Stanford's mind, and a lost human with full memories working at the Mystery Shack under a different alias. There's one catch: if they touch, they merge together into one all-powerful omnipotent being.</p><p>Bill's return in Stanford's mind hurts Stanford like salt in a wound he didn't even know existed, but he's determined to figure out what brought him back. He transfers his Bill into a robotic body in an attempt to study him, and things start to sting even harder: the wars in their minds, and the sharp, painful feeling of longing.</p><p>
  <strong> ON INDEFINITE HIATUS </strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. don't know where, don't know when

 

He never talks about Weirdmageddon, and sometimes Stanford wonders if that's because he doesn't remember it.

 

There isn't enough room in the Stan o' War II for two seperate beds, and on nights like this, Stanley holds him close and mumbles in his sleep about the world ending and that's as far as it ever gets. He still wakes up, sometimes, and wonders why Stanford still hates him. He has to remind him that he never did. He has to remind him that there's nothing in the universe that can rip Stanford Pines away from Stanley Pines. Brothers until the world ends. Brothers until the aftermath. A bond like that can't be severed.

 

Stanley has to remember saving the world. He has to remember that Stanford loves him. There has to be something inside of him that remembers being good. There has to be something inside of him that remembers saving.

 

Stanford loves his brother and they’re sailing away into the unknown, and it should be perfect, but something’s wrong. Stanford doesn’t know what it is. He has his brother and his family is safe but there’s something very, very wrong. A feeling. He hasn’t felt this since ---

 

Anyways.

 

He supposes that Stanley doesn’t remember Weirdmageddon, and tries to forget.

 

 

* * *

He's a morning person, now. Stanford asks him why he’s up so early and Stanley tells him that he finally has a reason to wake up.

 

* * *

 

 

Stanley tells him about what happened after dad kicked him out, and Stanford feels a regret that runs deeper than the regret he felt when he loved Bill Cipher.

 

He was selfish. He realizes this, now. He let his brother go because he ruined his future, and he _did,_ but Stanford should have loved him more. He should have stopped their father. He thought Stanley would come home but he never did and that’s _his_ fault. He should have thanked Stanley for rescuing him, even if it _did_ end the world. He should have done so many things differently, but that’s all in the past now.

 

He takes Stanley’s hand and gives him the apology that should have been delivered decades ago.

 

* * *

 

 

On the days that he calls Dipper and Mabel, he remembers being young. The kids are so happy, and they talk about their life in California and he helps Mabel with her homework and finally, finally, finally, he doesn’t miss being young. He’s grown up.

 

He started out life with a promise and he kept that promise. He’s living with his brother in the Stan o’ War, and he only wishes that he could talk to his younger self and tell him that he can get through anything. He can make it through loving and losing, he can make it through the end of the world, he can _make it._

 

He wants to tell him that he’ll make mistakes but he’ll learn from them and become a better person. He wants to tell him that he needs to call his brother and say sorry. He wants to tell him to look at Bill and say _no, no,_ even if it hurts.

 

That doesn’t matter now. He has his brother and the ocean and a niece and nephew that adore him and the world is _finally_ okay.

 

(Well, probably.)

 

* * *

 

Stanley brings up Bill, it slips out quickly, and Stanford thought he had forgotten, Stanford told himself that he should have forgotten, Stanford told himself that he didn’t remember so it would stop hurting.

 

He’s asking Stanley about his love life and it’s unsurprisingly _boring_.

 

"You really never..."

 

"What?" He asks.

 

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Stanley. I'm not one to judge. My love life has been... unfortunate."

 

"I know." Stanley says. "Sorry that the only person you ever actually liked was a demonic triangle who wanted to end the world."

 

He stops for a moment, and then laughs, because that's what people do when they're reminded of things that they've tried so hard to forget.

 

"See, you were always the luckier twin when it comes to things like this," Stanford tells him. "You might have not had the best luck with love after what happened, but at least you didn't fall for a demon."

 

It feels weird, saying it out loud. It was always an unspoken fact. He loved Bill, and Bill pretended to love him back. It was nice, for a while. Felt like Heaven, like he had finally found peace, but it wasn't real.

 

Sometimes Stanford forgets that he's gone.

 

Bill is gone and how he has his brother again and in a way, he is grateful, because without Bill he would never have made up with Stanley. Without Bill, Stanford would still be alone, too prideful to forgive.

 

He’s gone and Stanford feels thankful.

 

* * *

 

 

As good as it feels to be alone with his brother surrounded by the ocean, it’s also really, really frustrating when the inevitable fight happens.

 

It’s over something stupid, and now the cold bites and Stanley is inside on the bed and Stanford did _nothing_ wrong - his brother has always been so _sensitive._

 

(In hindsight, this is probably because of him, because he left.

 

But it’s just… easier to make light of it.)

 

It’s cold, the wind is cold, and -

 

and he’s crying. Oh, he’s _crying._ He just got his brother back a few months ago. Brothers fight, but this is the first time that they have fought since…

 

since Weirdmageddon.

 

They almost ended the world because Stanford had to correct his grammar. The kids almost _died_ because Stanford had to correct his grammar. It’s funny, when you think about it: if Stanford had never done that, all of his brother’s memories would still be intact.

 

He regained most of them with Mabel’s influence, but it’s obvious that there are still fragments missing. Fragments of Stanford, telling his brother that he loves him. Stanley only seems to remember years of resentment, and the dream of treasure hunting.

 

It hurts, and Stanford wipes away his tears (t e a r s !) with the sleeve of his sweater, soft. Soft like skin. Hands. Soft like -

 

Shit. Why is everything gray?

 

He thinks about it for a moment, until something says _hey, you_ and he turns around on instinct. "Stanley," he whispers, "I'm sorry-"

 

It isn't Stanley.

 

"You - you - you -"

 

"I what?"

 

"I _killed_ you. _We_ killed you."

 

Bill is in front of him, leaning on the edge of the boat. His stare is blank and he looks almost _c o n f u s e d -_ Stanford has never seen Bill confused before. He was never confused when they were together. This can’t be real. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream. Sometimes he dreams about Bill, dreams about the kids dying, but it’s never _real._ Stanford defeated him, Stanford _won._

 

"No, you didn't," Bill says. "If you killed me, how am I standing in front of you right now?”

 

Stanford buries his face in his hands. "How did I fall asleep out here? Stanley must be so worried - if he's not still angry at me -"

 

Bill's eye widens. "You're not asleep. How could you be asleep? I'm looking right at you. Your eyes are open."

 

"Quit it, Cipher," Stanford hisses, and imagines spitting venom into Bill’s eye, imagines being strong."This is just some twisted dream. But you've taught me a lot about dreams. Here, I can do anything I want. So you're going away."

 

Stanford closes his eyes. Opens them.

 

"Why are you still here? How -"

 

"You're cute," Bill says. "But you seem incredibly stupid. Also, who are you?"

 

His first instinct is shame - _c u t e_ \- and then anger.

 

"You know who I am, Bill. You're the one acting stupid."

 

He throws his hands up. "Well, damn. Excuse me for wanting to know why I woke up in the middle of the ocean next to some weird old man. I take back that cute thing; you're a _major_ asshole."

  
Stanford sighs. Defeated. All that he can do now is wait to wake up.

 

"Hey," Bill says, " _listen to me._ "

 

 _No,_ Stanford tells him,  _go away,_ but then Bill's hand is on his arm and s h i t , he thinks it's not a dream. Just for a second. Maybe this isn't a dream, maybe Bill is  _back._ Bill's hand is on his arm and he would know Bill's touch  _anywhere._

 

"Whoa, hey," Bill says. "You okay? You're acting weird, all of a sudden. What's with the flinching, kid?"

 

Stanford pulls away. "Don't call me  _kid,_ " he says. "You expect me to believe that you really don't know who I am?"

 

"Wow, how narcissistic can one person get? No, I don't know who you are. Why would I know who you are? All I know is that I just kinda... appeared here. Next to you."

 

Okay, Stanford will play along. Entertain Bill a bit before he gets bored and quits the act. "Do you know who you are?"

 

"Honestly?" Bill sighs. "No. You called me, what, Bill? Cipher? Oh, God, that isn't my name, is it?"

 

Stanford nods.

 

"What a stupid name. But not as stupid as yours, I bet! Your name is..." Bill stares at him for a moment. "Mr. - uh - attractive - sexy - hot - uh - smart guy. Mr. Attractive Sexy Hot Smart Guy. Got it! How'd I do?"

 

Stanford laughs and it's almost genuine. "You never change, do you? You think this is okay? You tortured me and threatened to kill my family and you're  _flirting_ with me?"

 

"Your name sure is long! How do you expect me to remember all that?"

 

Stanford growls and clenches his fists. He's ready to do something. He's not sure what. He feels like he should be angry. He feels like he should be furious. But. There's nothing, nothing. He grabs Bill and  _hits him._ His hand is bleeding-probably, or it would be if this was Real, but he doesn't stop.  _This is what you get,_ he thinks, like a song.

 

Bill finally struggles away and manages to pin Stanford over the edge of the boat.

 

"You..." Stanford starts, and stops when he realizes that Bill is -  _scared._ Bill is actually  _scared_ of him.

 

"Hey, what was that for?" Bill asks. "You're narcissistic  _and_ rude! What a package!"

 

Stanford fights, but it's useless. Bill has him bent over the hard metal, his face so close to the ocean.

 

"Hey, look, apparently I'm strong!" Bill laughs. "Boy, you sure do look good from this angle."

 

"Let me  _go,_ " Stanford breathes. Bill pulls back at the sound of his broken breathing, like Stanford is fragile, something that Bill can't break. Bill has the strength, Bill would be able to kill him in seconds, he knows this, but he  _can't._ Bill can't break him. Not yet, at least. Bill doesn't know why he would break something, in the first place. Breaking things is  _badbadbad._ It doesn't seem that  _badbadbad,_ though. It sounds like fun. But. There's something wrong, here. Something very, very wrong. 

 

Bill has to figure out why he's different. Bill has to figure out why he can't break Stanford yet. Yet.

 

Stanford takes a moment to collect himself.

 

"Thank you." He says. "So, let's say I believe you. If you don't know anything, then how come you're acting so..."

 

"Vibrant?" Bill suggests. "Bubbly? I like bubbly. Let's go with bubbly."

 

"... _Bill._ " Stanford finishes. "How come you're acting like you always do?"

 

"Huh, so I'm an amnesiac?" Bill asks. His voice sounds excited, higher than it usually is. "We know each other! Tell me about myself, then."

 

"You're a monster who used me and then tried to destroy our entire universe."

 

"Wow," Bill says. "I sound important."

 

"You're an  _asshole,_ " Stanford corrects. 

 

"Yeah, whatever." Bill says. He glances down and picks up Stanford's hand. "Check this out! This doesn't look normal."

 

He squeezes it. "One - two - three - four - five - six - what's the norm? Four, right? Five? It doesn't matter. It's cool. Hey, you've got six fingers - I think I'll call you Sixer!"

 

" _Don't_ , _"_ Stanford says.  _Only my brother is allowed to call me that._

 

"Well then, tell me your _actual_ name and maybe I'll use it."

 

"Stanford Pines," he says. He feels like the name is a curse, feels like he should shed it like skin and find a new name. This one has been tainted. 

 

"Nice name," Bill tells him. There's a flash of blue, in his mind. Books. It's gone after a few seconds, and it leaves a wound inside of Bill that he doesn't know how to describe. It's almost like breaking.

 

"Are we done playing now?" Stanford asks. "I'm getting bored, Bill. This is low, even for you."

 

"What game are we -"

 

Bill's voice turns rough. Deep.

 

" - playing? Ford? Hey, come on, Stanford, you with me?"

 

He feels pain strike his face, and his eyes open to a world of color. 

 

"Stan?" He asks, voice weak. "Are you - are we -"

 

"Came to say I'm sorry," Stanley says. "I don't wanna fight with you again, Ford."

 

Stanford blinks, for a moment. His eyes go blurry.  _It felt real. So, so real._

 

He pulls his brother into a hug and tries to stop his tears.

 

"Whoa, Sixer -"

 

"Please don't call me that," Stanford whispers, into his brother's neck. "Please."

 

All that Stanley can do is pull him closer, closer, closer.

 

"C'mon," he says. "Let's get you back to bed."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


	2. there was a garden growing from a black hole in my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you think my bruised knees are sorta pretty_  
>  and i think your tired eyes are kinda nice  
> and when i first met you there was a garden  
> growing from a black hole in my mind

Stanford doesn't sleep. He lies in his bed and thinks about Bill while his brother sleeps next to him, he lies in bed and forces his eyes open. If he sleeps again, he will see Bill, and it will  _hurt,_ he will cry again. He can't tell Stanley that Bill is back -

 

Bill isn't back. Why would he tell his brother that Bill is back? Bill is  _dead._ Stanford erased him right out of his brother's head. He's gone, gone, gone. He can't be back. He  _can't_ be back. Why would he tell his brother that Bill is back when he isn't? God, he just wanted  _peace,_ for the first time in his life. He just wanted to sail around the world with Stanley, like they promised. He just wanted the world to be okay. But now he's paranoid again, now he's not sleeping again. Bill might be back, again. Bill isn't back. Bill can't be back.

 

Did he  _really_ think that he could defeat Bill? He told Dipper that he wasn't sure if it was possible and Stanford  _knows_ Bill,  _knows_ his power. If Bill really  _is_ back (he isn't, he can't be) then he can't tell Stanley. If he tells Stanley, Stanley will be in danger. He can't lose his brother again. He has to handle this on his own.

 

He's just paranoid. Bill isn't back. He needs to stop lying to himself. Bill isn't back. Stanford never loved him. Bill isn't back. Stanford is  _stupid._ Bill isn't back. He needs to stop lying to himself. Bill isn't back. It felt real, and it felt like love again. Bill isn't back. Bill is not back. Bill  _is **not** back._

 

(Bill is back.)

 

(Something inside of Stanford knows this.)

 

(He knows Bill.)

 

(He would know Bill a n y w h e r e .)

 

(He knows Bill.)

 

(He knows Bill.)

 

(Somehow, this is real. It doesn't make sense but this is  _real._ Real, real, real.)

 

(He knows Bill.)

 

(He knows -)

 

* * *

 

 

The first night that he doesn't sleep, he spends most of his time sitting on the outside of the boat, feeling the cold. The cold and the wind will keep him awake, he decides.

 

It's also the perfect opportunity to think back on past mistakes.

 

You'd think that his first mistake would be loving Bill Cipher. Stanford thinks that, too. His first and greatest mistake  _should_ be loving Bill Cipher, because Bill Cipher used him, manipulated him, tortured him, nearly k i l l e d h i s f a m i l y .

 

Family.

 

 _That's_ his first mistake, family. It's simple, but he doesn't like to think about it.

 

His  _second_ mistake is loving Bill Cipher. Bill tortured him, used him, manipulated him, nearly killed his family, Stanford has thought about this far too much. We've been over this. His  _second_ mistake is being  _f o o l i s h_ enough to trust someone who showed up in his dreams and claimed to be a muse, something Holy. His second mistake is believing in this holiness. 

 

His second mistake is believing that someone out there could love him.

 

His third mistake is -

 

The second night that he doesn't sleep is like his second mistake. He thinks about Bill and doesn't stop. He thinks about Bill because that's all that he  _can_ do, because thinking about Bill seems to be an inevitable fate nowadays. Bill is back (probably) and if he sleeps, Bill will undoubtedly be back. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. 

 

It's weird, though, because Stanford almost  _believes_ him. 

 

He can tell when Bill is playing him, he  _knows_ Bill and he's spent enough time around his brother to know when someone's lying. Bill might actually be an amnesiac. 

 

How  _interesting._

 

The third night that he doesn't sleep is the hardest. He's still thinking about Bill.

 

The fourth night that he doesn't sleep, Stanley finally notices. 

 

He sits down next to Stanford, puts an arm around him. "You haven't been sleeping," he says. "What's going on?"

 

"It's nothing," Stanford replies, quickly. "I'm just having a hard time getting to sleep, that's all."

 

"Bullshit," Stanley tells him. "I know you, Ford. What's  _really_ going on? You have to sleep at some point."

 

" _Nothing,_ " he snaps in response. "I'm not sleeping. I - I  _can't._ _"_

 

"You're sleeping one way or another," Stanley tells him. "If I have to knock you out and drag you to bed, I will. This isn't healthy."

 

Stanford laughs. "You wouldn't do that. I know it's not healthy, but if I sleep, then --"

 

He stops himself. Stanley  _can't_ know about Bill. He doesn't want his brother in danger.

 

"Then what?"

 

"Then nothing. I don't want to fight you over this."

 

"Then we're not gonna fight," Stanley tells him, and Stanford feels  _painpainpain_ and then -

 

everything is black. Dark.

 

Shit, he meant it. Shit. Shit. If he's out cold, that means -

 

"What happened?"

 

_Bill._

 

"What do you mean?" Stanford asks.

 

There's nothing but Bill and Stanford and the dark. No scenery or sound, and the only thing that Stanford can feel is Bill's warmth radiating next to him. Bill always had a sort of warmth, in Stanford's mind, despite having nothing physically that would cause him to feel so... welcoming to the touch. Stanford bites down on his lip, but there's no pain, there's no feeling. He has Bill and the darkness. Nothing is new, really. He's used to things like this. Bill used to do this, after the betrayal and before he had the plate put in.

 

"I was in your boat, next to you, and now I'm here. One second you were talking to me about games and the next I'm surrounded by darkness and a guy who seems to be dead set on killing me for some reason that I can't figure out yet." Bill sighs. "Look, kid, are you going to tell me what's going on or are you just going to keep playing hard to get?"

 

"So there was... nothing in between for you? You just... jumped from one meeting to the next?"

 

"What are you even  _talking_ about?"

 

"Bill, it's been four days since we last talked."

 

Bill rolls his eye. "Yeah,  _right._ "

 

"No," Stanford says, "I'm serious. I don't know how you don't know that. It's interesting."

 

Bill says  _I'm still confused_ and it doesn't take Stanford long to realize what's happening, but he doesn't understand it. Bill died ( d i e d ! ) in  _Stanley's_ mind. Bill died ( d i e d ! ) inside of his brother. If Bill is back, he should be haunting Stanley. It doesn't make sense. 

 

And then he  _laughs._ Oh, this is perfect. Bill is h e l p l e s s (for now) (until he figures out how strong he is, but -) and Stanford could do  _anything_ to him. Revenge. 

 

"You exist in my mind only," Stanford says. "We can only see each other when I'm sleeping or unconscious. Which means, you're  _nothing_ outside of me. How does it feel now?"

 

"So you're telling me that I literally can't get away from you?"

 

"No. We're stuck."

 

"God fucking  _damn_ it," Bill says, out of desperation. He's getting bored of Stanford already. He wants to leave and explore, but he doesn't. Something is drawing him to Stanford. Something like - a  _connection._ They have a connection.

 

"Hey," Bill says. "I guess there are worse people to get stuck with."

 

" _Don't start with me -"_

 

"I mean, we  _obviously_ have some sort of connection, if we're stuck together like this."

 

"We have  _no_ connection," Stanford bites.  _Not anymore._

 

"Then why," Bill asks, and grabs Stanford's arm almost with  _force,_ "do I feel so drawn to you?"

 

He puts Stanford's arm around him and cuddles slightly into Stanford, causing Stanford to feel - something. Something that he hasn't felt for three decades,  _no._ No. He doesn't push Bill away, like he probably should. He sighs, and looks down at his feet. Bill is warm and warm and warm and Stanford almost wants to -

 

"You're just messing with me," Stanford says, weakly, like he's trying so so so  _so_ hard to believe it. "You're not really an amnesiac, are you?"

 

"You still don't believe me?"

 

"No."

 

Bill sighs and pulls him closer. "Listen. I only just learned my name, I'm stuck inside of the mind of some old guy, I don't even - I'm  _scared._ I feel sick saying that, for some reason. It's true. I don't know what to do."

 

Stanford looks at him. Believes him, for a moment. (He's believed Bill ever since their first meeting after Weirdmageddon, he knew, he  _knew,_ he didn't want to -)

 

"There, see!" Bill says. "You believe me."

 

"Not completely, but yes," Stanford says. "I just don't understand how you're in  _my_ mind, though. You... were... you went away inside of my brother's head. You should be haunting him and not me."

 

"Brings us back to that connection thing," Bill says. He notices Stanford's look of... sorrow, resentment. Anger. "Hey, Stanford. Ford. It's okay. It's not like I particularly enjoy this, either. I mean, I'd give anything to get away from you! No offense -"

 

"Really, none taken."

 

"- intended. But think about it, this can be a good thing!"

 

"What do you  _want,_ Bill," Stanford growls, because Bill is being  _nice_ to him and he can tell that it's fake, fake, fake.

 

"I want to get out of here."

 

"You can't. Were you even listening?"

 

"I want to exist somewhere outside of your stupid mind," Bill says. "You know. Live a little."

 

"The only way you'd be able to do that is if you had a vessel to possess -" Stanford stops himself; he's never had a vocal filter and he's said too much, now. He's always saying too much. Bill tortured him during Weirdmageddon because he said too much. The kids almost died because he told Bill about the equation.  _God._

 

"Sweet! So just get me a vessel to possess and I'll be out of your hair."

 

"No."

 

"What, you don't want me out of your hair?" Bill chuckles. "Knew it! I knew we had history by the way you looked at me."

 

Bill's body starts to fade, when he says  _Go away._ Then he's on the bed with no warmth around him.

 

(He misses the warmth.)

 

He only registers it when Stanley comes into the bedroom and asks, "You okay?"

 

"You knocked me out," Stanford replies. "Of course I'm not okay."

 

"You gave me no choice," Stanley says, voice rising with anger.

 

"It doesn't matter," Stanford says, shaking his head. "We have a bigger problem."

 

"Yeah, I know. You need sleeping pills or something? Next time we dock we can get you some melatonin -"

 

" _No,_ " Stanford snaps. "Bill is back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


	3. hush, little heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _For here I lie in wait, hush little heart_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Steal my sweating lips, wield my starving hips_  
>  There's a cult, there's a cult inside of me  
> Form a salt, sprinkle it around me
> 
>  
> 
> _Into a bright bound, sea surrounded fury_  
>  Our bodies will return

Stanley laughs nervously; his brother is joking. He  _has_ to be joking, he has to be going crazy, because he  _defeated_ Bill. He punched Bill into nothing. Bill is  _gone._ He watched it. He watched Bill disintegrate, and it was  _satisfying._ So no, Bill can't be back. Bill can't be back, because he finally has his brother. It feels like his brother never loved him, despite the fact that Stanford keeps reminding him that the love was there. Stanley just doesn't remember it. Bill can't be back, because he is finally feeling his brother's love and  _nothing_ can take that away from him.

 

"Hey, that's a real funny joke."

 

"It's not a  _joke,_ Stan. Bill is back."

 

"But I  _killed_ him," Stanley says. "I punched that triangular dick right in the eye."

 

Stanford sighs. "Think back. Did he say or do anything unusual? Anything at all?"

 

"He said some letters... went through a bunch of different, horrifying forms before he faded."

 

"What were the letters?" Stanford asks. "It could have been some sort of a spell."

 

Stanley tries to remember, tries and tries. There's nothing.

 

"I don't..."

 

" _Focus,_ Stanley."

 

He closes his eyes and thinks back to destroying him. 

 

All of the forms that Bill had reverted to before his destruction were terrifying,  _red, blue, green, stone._ And...

 

"L-T-O-L." He says it like a chant. "That's all I can come up with. Guy speaks fast, y'know."

 

"Interesting," Stanford says. "I wonder what that means..."

 

"Anyways, how do you know he's back?" Stanley asks. "What  _happened?_ "

 

"Well," he says, and adjusts his glasses, "I fell asleep when we were fighting, and he came to me in my dream, and..."

 

"And what?"

 

"Something was wrong." Stanford frowns. "I started hitting him, I don't know what came over me. I hit him and then he stopped me and bent me over the edge of the boat, and Stanley - he was  _scared_ of me. Bill was scared of me. He told me he didn't remember anything about me or himself. It was very odd."

 

Stanley rolls his eyes. "Yeah, or he was just conning you."

 

"I did consider that," Stanford replies, shaking his head. "But you know that I know Bill. Something was definitely wrong."

 

"What, you seriously believe he's lost his memories?"

 

Stanford sighs. "I'm not sure."

 

A loud, angry sound comes from Stanley's stomach.

 

"Apparently I'm starving," Stanley says. "Hey, when's the next time we'll actually be on land? I'm getting kinda seasick."

 

"We should be coming up somewhere soon," Stanford tells him, and smiles. "Never thought you'd get seasick, though, considering how much you've always wanted to be on a boat."

 

"Can it," he says, but smiles back. 

 

Whatever happens, even if Bill is back, even if Bill tries to end the world again, even if the world  _actually_ ends, he'll have his brother.

 

He will always have his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

They dock somewhere in Alaska, and to their surprise, the air is warm. Neither of them have actually been to Alaska - not even Stanley, not even during his time traveling throughout the country, and when they finally leave the Stan o' War, Stanley smiles and dances a little.

 

"Ah, land," he says, patting a nearby rock. "I've missed you so much."

 

Stanford smiles. His brother is acting nonchalant, like doesn't know that the world could be ending, that the world isn't safe now. Bill is b a c k and he doesn't remember anything and if he figures out his powers, then the world is as good as gone. He can get through this, he's done it before, but there's a very real possibility that if it happens again, he'll lose Stanley, he'll lose  _everything._  

 

He doesn't want to lose everything. No one ever does.

* * *

 

 

 The cafe that they stop in isn't like any cafe they've ever been to, but that's probably because they haven't been inside of one for a very long time. It has something to do with the fact that there are none in Gravity Falls (there might have been, on second thought, but Stanley spent his entire time in Gravity Falls looking for his brother, never paying attention to his surroundings, because none of them  _mattered_ ) and there are  _definitely_ none in-between dimensions. It's small, inside. The windows are boarded up with wood, and Stanley can't help himself, he says, "You sure this place is... y'know... safe?"

 

Stanford rolls his eyes at the comment. "Stan, the Mystery Shack looks exactly like this place. The only difference is that here, there are no embarrassingly fake tourist attractions."

 

"Hey, I'll have you know that it only looks like that because  _you_ built it and then had the _audacity_ to fall into that portal. And my tourist attractions aren't fake _or_ embarrassing! I spent a lot of time on them, y'know."

 

"They are."

 

Stanley laughs. "Yeah, yeah. I know. They really are. Hopefully Soos can come up with some better ones."

 

Stanford never pegged his brother for someone who'd actually  _enjoy_ coffee, but Stanley's downing his third cup now. Completely black, no sugar or cream. Stanford doesn't know he can do it - coffee is  _disgusting._ Stanford tried coffee once when he was a teenager and once when he was trying to stay awake working on the portal. He hated it, both times. 

 

Stanford stares down into his tea, which tastes equally disgusting, and lets out a deep sigh. "Okay, Stanley, we can't keep dancing around this. I need you to act alarmed here. What are we going to do about Bill?"

 

"I've been trying to forget about it."

 

"You can't just  _forget,_ the world is in danger-"

 

"I know. Trust me, I know. It's just..." Stanley digs his fingernails into his palms. It's too soon. It's too  _soon._ He's encountered monsters while traveling through the Arctic Ocean but they're all easily defeated. Bill is versatile. He looked terrified, when Stanley "defeated" him. He turned around, and  _looked._

 

Bill is versatile, okay, and his brother knows Bill. It would be inside and out, but Bill doesn't have anything inside of him except rot and decay and Bill knows nothing besides want. Want.  _Want._ Stanley wanted. It got him forty years of rotting and decaying inside, like Bill, almost, except different. Different because he was rotting for his brother. Bill was only rotting for power. They're two completely different people but their  _wants_ were their downfall. It's hard to think about it, so Stanley tries to forget.

 

"It's just what?"

 

"I  _just wanted_ a life at sea. Me and my brother and the occasional squid hell monster. But I don't even get _that_ , do I? If Bill is back, then he's going down. I'll make sure of it."

 

"That's all I ever wanted, myself," Stanford says, giving a sad smile. "But I should've known this would happen. We can't get rid of him just yet, Stanley."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because we have to figure out  _why_ he's back. We have to figure out how it happened."

 

Stanley sighs. "Okay. Fine, I trust you. By the way, you never told me anything outside of 'I loved Bill, I was a complete idiot, he betrayed me, some other stuff too boring and nerdy to repeat.'"

 

"I didn't want you to think less of me," Stanford says. Quietly, like he's afraid the world will end if he says it too loud. It might.

 

"What, you kidding?" Stanley laughs, and punches him playfully. "No, I'd never think less of you for something like that."

 

"Okay," Stanford says. He takes a deep breath. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. He appeared in my mind, we played a game of chess, he told me he was a muse and that he wanted to inspire me, and I was foolish enough to let him into my mind the very first time we met -"

 

"The very first time you met?"

 

"Yes. I'm not proud of it. Moving on. Every time I fell asleep, he would be there. We talked for quite a while each night. I grew very fond of him. Then he told me I could finally find out the mysteries of Gravity Falls by building that portal. I trusted him. By that point, I didn't know it, but I was madly in love. He praised me, called me smart guy. Genius. Amazing. He told me that I wasn't a freak for having six fingers, that it made me special and different and better than the others. He was able to possess me whenever he felt like it, which at the time I enjoyed, because he made me feel... little did I know, it was all a lie. He saw me as nothing more than an insect, a pawn, something to manipulate. When my partner found out his true plans, I confronted him. He belittled me. I woke up and I shut the portal down, and I tried to keep it all in but I broke down crying. I had worshiped him, I gave him everything. A few days later he started tormenting me. I had no choice but to install a plate in my head that would keep him out of my mind and body. I didn't know for certain if it would work, but I had to do  _something._ It... that's all. That's our history, that's what happened."

 

"Oh, man, Ford, I'm so sorry," Stanley says. That's all he can say; when his brother told him  _you don't know what I've been through,_ he was. Selfish. Thought only about himself. Now he understands, now he realizes that he should've listened to his brother, even if Stanford wanted him to go away. He should have helped - should have calmed him down, should have reassured him. He was never going to leave his brother. He should have said,  _let's face it together._ He should have said something. He should have saved his brother, sooner. There's nothing he can do now except regret, a little bit, not enough regret to consume him and make him rotten inside (like Bill). It's over. It's all over.

 

"It's okay, Stanley," Stanford tells him. "That's in the past now. The only thing we can do now is find a way to defeat Bill. For  _good,_ this time."

 

"Yeah, but how?"

 

"I'll have to play along," Stanford says. "Give him what he wants."

 

"You can't be serious."

 

"We have to study him. It's the only way."

 

"Fine," Stanley says. He looks down at his hands, uncurls his fingernails from his palms, finally. There are a few drops (okay, more than a few, but it doesn't matter) of blood pouring out of the crescent marks. 

 

Stanley wipes his hand on his jacket. Doesn't care. "I don't want you getting hurt, though."

 

"I'll try not to get hurt," Stanford replies. "But listen, if anything happens to me, you have to promise me that you'll be okay. I'm not exactly young anymore, Stanley. In Weirdmageddon, Bill tortured me. Electrocuted me. I have no idea what the long-term effects of that are, but I know it's not good. It probably took a few years off of my life. If it happens again, it could kill me."

 

"So try to avoid getting tortured," Stanley says.

 

"That's the plan."

 

Stanford takes a sip of his tea, and his face wrinkles up. "This is probably the worst thing I've tasted in my life. Even the things I ate during my time in the portal didn't taste this bad."

 

"What exactly  _did_ you eat?"

 

"You don't want to know."

 

* * *

 

 

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the full story, but the full story is painful.

 

Bill was the closest Stanford ever got to an ending. He was okay with it, when they first met. He was okay with an ending. He had spent many nights searching for the source of Gravity Falls' weirdness, and when he met Bill, he felt like something completing. Something with too many lost pieces, and those pieces came together to form a Full and Holy Stanford, a Stanford that finally felt okay. For the first time in his life, he belonged somewhere. Bill was his beginning and Bill was supposed to be his ending.

 

Looking back on it, though, Stanford never knew what would happen once the portal finished. He would never have been able to have the life that he wanted, if he was with Bill. He would never have been able to -  _shit,_ he doesn't even know what he wanted back then. He had thirty years to reflect on it, but he never thought about the kind of life he wanted. He thinks that maybe back then he wanted domesticity, normalcy, but his life was never normal, so that's a stupid  _want,_ an unrealistic  _want._ Stanford never had unrealistic wants until he met Bill. He made things possible that were previously thought to be impossible. He was  _smart._

 

Until he met Bill. There were a lot of things he was, before he met Bill. He was innocent, for example. Lived an innocent life, as innocent of a life that someone with six fingers and a genius brain can have. Lonely, too. He was lonely before he met Bill, had never loved before, didn't know love. His  _want_ and his  _need_ for someone to Love him made him blind. 

 

When he met Bill, he knew that his life was going to change. Somehow, he felt it. He felt everything.

 

He ignored it.

 

Bill was the closest Stanford ever got to an ending, and Stanford feels like maybe he'll finally get that ending. 

 

Finally.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know exactly how to finish this chapter, I originally wanted to be longer but my brain kinda flaked out on me, so. Anyways, I hope this isn't too horrible. Also, I know literally nothing about boats. Or oceans. I failed geography big time. If I make any mistakes along those lines, please correct me. Anyways anyways, I'm so glad people like this! I can't reply to every comment individually for Reasons, but know that I read every single one and they make me flutter. I tried to add more detail this time. I... failed.
> 
> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


	4. dripping in gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _i walked into the room_  
>  dripping in gold  
> a wave of heads did turn, or so i've been told  
> the boy's got my heart in a silver cage

 

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

 

Stanford sighs and sits down on the bed. 

 

"It's the only way."

 

It _is_ the only way. Stanford is about to walk into death, or the end of the world, or the end of his life (for  _real,_ this time, for _good_ ) and it's the only way.

 

He's going to give Bill what he wants.

 

It has to happen, sooner or later, because he can't continue seeing Bill every time that he sleeps, because every night has been a painful reminder of everything he could have had and everything that he's lost. He can't continue seeing Bill every time that he sleeps, because he can feel Bill dormant inside of him and every night that will pass until Bill gets what he wants will be like torture. Less painful than being electrocuted, but a different kind of pain, a different kind of torture.

 

It has to happen, sooner or later. He knows this. Bill is i n s i d e of him and Stanford can feel something brewing, something bubbling. It's not good. It feels like Bill, like Bill's influence is overtaking him. It's not good and it has to happen, sooner or later. He has to give in.

 

He always gives in. (Sooner or later.)

 

"Ford, I don't like this," Stanley says. "I still don't believe the guy. I mean, there's a good chance that he's lying to your face, you know that, right?"

 

"I know," he responds. "I don't think he's lying, though. I can feel it, there's something off."

 

"Yeah, you think you can feel a lot of things. Bill's a liar and you fell for it once before. I'm gonna make sure that you don't fall for his shit again."

 

"You think I'm going to fall for hi - for... for his tricks again?" Stanford yells, but his words are flat and blank. "After what happened with the kids?"

 

"I don't know," Stanley sighs. He looks down at his feet. He's s c a r e d but he doesn't want to admit it. It shows, though; Stanford can tell by the way that his words shake. "I don't think you would, but..."

 

"Listen," Stanford says, voice quiet. "I'm strong now." He's trying to convince himself that he's strong, he's trying to convince himself that he can do this. He's trying to convince himself that he can look at Bill and say:

 

_Okay,_

 

and be s t r o n g . 

 

"I can do this. You need to have some faith in me, Stanley. I did survive thirty years of being trapped between dimensions, you know."

 

"Okay," Stanley agrees. "Okay. Okay, you do your thing. I'll be... somewhere that isn't the bedroom."

 

* * *

 

 It takes a while for him to fall asleep. It's funny, because you'd think it would be easy for him to get to sleep considering the circumstances, but it isn't. Circumstances being: he's going to die. Maybe not yet, but he will. It's funny, because you'd think after all this time, Stanford would have learned not to love death, but he hasn't. Circumstances being: he's about to talk to Bill, the being who tried to end the world, and tell him -

 

_Okay,_

 

while trying to be strong.

 

He lied to his brother; being strong is never easy.

 

It takes a while for him to fall asleep, and he doesn't even notice that he's sleeping until he looks down at his body and sees the scars that he's tried relentlessly to forget. He's shirtless, vulnerable. He hasn't felt this vulnerable since Bill chained him up during Weirdmageddon and sang to him. He hasn't felt this vulnerable since he almost -

 

Anyways, vulnerability. For a moment, he thinks that Bill is doing this on  _p u r p o s e ,_ making him feel vulnerable on  _p u r p o s e_ , because the scars on his body are thick and dark and triangular. They were caused by a variety of different things - Stanford had carved Bill's figure into himself, once, because Bill told him to. Bill had branded his image into Stanford's hips, after the betrayal, just for the fun of it.  _Remember who you belong to,_ he had said.

 

He quickly realizes, however, that Bill is just as vulnerable and confused as he is.

 

Bill's standing, next to him. Well,  _floating,_ not actually standing, but regardless, he's there, he's looking at Stanford and Stanford feels like someone is watching his organs turn. That kind of vulnerability, the disgusting kind.

 

"What the," Bill starts - he glances at his surroundings. Stanford's mind is only a swing-set and a field, now. It's not like it used to be, not beautiful anymore, because Bill took that away. He wouldn't know that, though, so Stanford keeps his mouth shut and watches Bill's eye move. "What the -  _oh._ You woke up, didn't you? Why does everything keep changing? Why can't your mind - you know what, it doesn't matter. It's nice to see you again. Did you miss me?"

 

"I could never miss you," Stanford says, but stops himself. He has to give Bill what he wants. He has to make everything okay. "I mean. Okay, I suppose I did, a little bit."

 

Bill laughs at this. "I knew you couldn't stand to be away from me for very long. Hey, what are we? Dating?  _Married?_ You sure do fight with me like we're married."

 

"We're not-"  _He has to give Bill what he wants._ "Okay, fine, we're married if you want us to be."

 

"You think I want to be married to you, six-fingers? Please! Despite the fact that you're rather nice looking for a man of your age, I think I could've done  _way_ better. Or, y'know, branched out, considered my options."

 

Stanford clenches his fist and swallows down his anger. "You - a man of my - whatever, it doesn't matter. I have... a proposition for you."

 

"A proposition, huh?" Bill says, and his voice lowers down to a sound that makes Stanford feel cold and vulnerable. "Yeah. We can probably talk about that later."

 

"Later?" Stanford asks, blinking. "What do you mean  _later?_ "

 

"Let's catch up," Bill says. "I don't know why, but I have a weird feeling that the two of us need a little therapy session."

 

Stanford sighs. "What is it that you want?"

 

"Just to get to know my brain-mate, that's all!"

 

"Specifically, what do you want."

 

Bill puts an arm around him. He's really good at that, touching. He always has been. "Tell me about yourself."

 

Stanford wants to push Bill away but he c a n ' t , because that would ruin everything, that would ruin the build-up, the exposition, the rising action that's not ready yet. "I'm..." He takes a deep breath of air. "Well, you know my name."

 

"Go on."

 

"I... there's not really much to tell. Um, I'm a genius, twelve PhDs -"

 

" _Boring!_ "

 

"Well, what do you  _want_ me to talk about?"

 

"You're acting like your personality is defined by your intelligence. You're more than that, kid. I know it. So try to put all that stuff aside, and  **tell me about yourself.** "

 

Bill is right and it hurts. He's never thought about it until now but Bill is  _right._ He's never thought of himself beyond his intelligence. No one has ever tried to look inside of him, no one has never tried to look beyond his mind, his brain, his knowledge. His entire life he's been Smart Guy and nothing after that. No one cared enough, so Stanford didn't care, either. Now: he's forced to think about his personality, and leave genius behind. He might be nothing beyond genius.

 

He takes another deep breath, and tries and fails and tries and fails and tries and fails. Says: "I - I don't know. I'm sorry."

 

"Hey, no biggie!" Bill responds. He's not laughing, which is a surprise. "I'll just make up a backstory for you, then. That's more fun anyways." His voice deepens. "You've had a tragic life. Everyone teased you for your fingers. You lost your family when you were eighteen and it scarred you. After that, you tried to figure out all of the weirdness in the world but you couldn't -"

 

"Okay, Bill, that's enough," Stanford says. It's frighteningly accurate, but he can't let Bill know that. Bill's memories might already be coming back, and that scares him. "Back to my proposition."

 

Bill's arm is still around him. "I'm not satisfied yet." Bill says. "Okay, act two: tell me about us."

 

"What?" Stanford screams. "There is no us."

 

"You just told me we're married."

 

"I was _joking._ "

 

"I don't think you were," Bill laughs. Oh, now he's laughing. "Maybe we're not married, but we definitely have some... _tension._ "

 

Stanford pushes him away. "There's no tension. Would you listen to my proposition -"

 

"Whatever," Bill sighs, "have it your way. But I'm not listening to your stupid proposition until we get somewhere."

 

"Why are you acting so childish all of a sudden?" Stanford growls. "Why won't you just  _listen_ to me?"

 

Bill ignores him. "Hey, my legs are getting tired."

 

"You're not even using them."

 

"Why does it matter to you?" Bill asks. "You don't care about me at all. I wish we had a chair or two in your stuffy little mind. That'd be nice. What do you even  _do_ in here, anyways?"

 

Stanford opens his mouth to give a retort, but closes it when he feels a chair poking at the backs of his legs.

 

"What do you know," Bill says, pushing him down into the chair. "Looks like I've got some power here after all! How did I even do that? Doesn't matter. It was really cool."

 

Bill presses a finger to Stanford's lips. "This is exactly what I wanted! Thank you, Ford's mind. Now I have somewhere to sit."

 

"You don't have a -" Stanford starts, words muffled,  _you don't have one what are you talking about what are you -_

 

Bill is straddling him.

 

"Of course I do."

 

Without thinking, Stanford takes his hand and runs it up and down Bill's sides; he can feel something igniting inside of him. Bill is messing with him. Even with no memories, Bill messes with him. He's good at that, too. There's something igniting like fire, like smoke, like a warning. Stanford wants to scream warnings.  _Wake me up, Stanley, wake me up, wake me up,_ but it doesn't matter because he doesn't remember Bill feeling this soft, this warm, this  _human-like._

 

It feels as if Bill has a body, feels as if Bill has a human form. That's ridiculous. That's ridiculous. 

 

(He had tried to get Bill a body, once.

 

It didn't work out as planned.)

 

"What are you doing," Stanford breathes.

 

"Making you talk, resting my legs. What's it look like I'm doing?"

 

"Well, it looks like you're straddling me."

 

"Yeah," Bill says. "And it looks like you're stroking my sides."

 

Stanford moves his hand quickly, but Bill grabs his wrist. "Don't feel like you have to stop. I think we're finally getting somewhere."

 

Stanford is frozen, underneath Bill. It's like old times, like thirty years ago. He doesn't move, only watches Bill's eye stare at him, like vulnerability, like someone is picking the meat off of his insides. That would be better than this, that would be better than reminders of old times. Predators. He can be the prey. Bill thinks of him as prey. He doesn't want to be prey. He wants to shove Bill away but he can't even move, how  _weak._ Bill is the predator. He will always be the predator, memories or not. Stanford is foolish for thinking that things would change, this time around.

 

 _Oh,_ there it is.

 

He thought that things would be different. For some reason. He doesn't realize it until Bill is straddling him. He thought that maybe, this time around, with this second chance -

 

second chance at what? At -

 

maybe, this time around Bill could -

 

It doesn't matter. 

 

Bill isn't capable of feeling so it doesn't matter.

 

"I don't know what you want from me," Stanford says. "Just - tell me what you want."

 

"I just wanna talk," Bill replies. "You'd know that if you listened to me."

 

" _You're_ not listening to  _me,_ " Stanford says. It's a pathetic retort. This is what he's been reduced to.

 

"I'd listen to you if you had anything interesting to say!"

 

"I'm giving you a vessel to possess," Stanford tells him.

 

"Now that's interesting!" Bill chuckles. "But I don't believe you."

 

"What do you mean you don't believe me?" Stanford asks, voice angry. "I'm finally doing something you want! This is what you wanted! You wanted me to do this and I'm doing it! I'm giving in to you, Bill. You should be happy about this. I'm giving  _in._ So just take this and stop playing games with me! Why would I  _lie_ to you?"

 

"Yeah, why would the person who has been nothing but hostile to me ever since we met lie to me?" Bill says, and yeah, okay, he has a point. Stanford hasn't been the nicest, but Bill  _did_ torture him, attempt to kill Dipper and Mabel, and nearly end the world, so it's understandable, but Bill doesn't know that, Bill only thinks that Stanford is being rude to him without reason, and Stanford feels almost  _bad_ about it. He feels bad and he doesn't know why. He hates Bill, and Bill deserves this.

 

But he feels  _bad._ Swallows it down, and says: "How can I prove myself to you?"

 

Bill stares at him.

 

Stanford knows what he has to do.

 

"I loved you, once," he says. "More than anything."

 

Bill pushes himself off of Stanford's lap. "There," he says. "You've proven yourself. So, tell me about this vessel."

 

Stanford breathes in relief when Bill's touch leaves him. It's stupid because one would think that he'd be embracing it, considering he hasn't been touched in  _so long,_ but that fact doesn't matter. Bill isn't on him anymore and Stanford can stop imagining humanity.

 

"Back when we... when I knew you, I had spent many nights researching ways to get you a human body. There was one way that seemed like it could work - you wouldn't have been physically human, but you'd have looked like one. I built you a robotic body with the help of my old college friend, and you told me about a magic spell that would allow you to move from my mind into the vessel. It should still be back in the basement of my old home, if it didn't get destroyed during... anyways. We'll have to travel a while to find it, but -"

 

"Save your breath, Ford," Bill says. "I don't want it."

 

"What? Why not?"

 

"I wanna be fully human or no deal."

 

Stanford sighs. Bill doesn't  _get it._ "Bill, there's - there's no possible way for you to become fully human. You either take this or you leave it."

 

"Fine, then I'm leaving it."

 

"You can't just  _leave it,_ " Stanford tells him. "Look, I don't particularly want to continue seeing you every time I sleep, so you're taking this deal."

 

"Oh, I am?" Bill laughs. "What do I get out of it?"

 

"You get to never see me again."

 

He doesn't expect Bill to believe it. He's never lied to Bill before; there's something about Bill that always makes Stanford feel like spilling the truth out of his teeth. Even the switch in Weirdmageddon wasn't a lie. Not technically. It was a deception. They're two very, very different things. 

 

He watches Bill consider it, he can see the inner-workings of Bill's mind (does he even  _have_ a mind, Stanford wonders, does he even have anything besides _rot_ ), he can see  _everything._ His eye widens and Stanford thinks that he's going to die. Oh, he  _lied_ to Bill. The truth didn't spill out, this time. This is bad, this is bad, this is -

 

"Okay," Bill says,  _okay._ Stanford breathes again. "Deal."

 

Bill holds his hand out, but there's no fire.

 

Stanford takes it.

 

"We have a deal," he says. "It's going to take a few days to get back to Gravity Falls."

 

"What's Gravity Falls?" Bill asks.  _Gravity Falls._ The name sounds almost familiar.

 

"A town in Oregon," Stanford responds. "It's where we met, and it's where your new body is - hopefully - being stored."

 

There's a flash of color in Bill's mind. Trees.  _Redblueyellowgreen._ Madness. He doesn't know why, but he remembers madness. It only lasts for a few moments before Bill is thrown back into the present, thrown back in front of Stanford.

 

He remembers:

 

_There's a child, standing on a rock. This child has a book. This book is important, for some reason._

 

_The child tries to hit him._

 

He remembers:

 

_waves of madness._

 

He remembers -

 

"Hey, Bill? You haven't made a sarcastic remark in a few minutes. What's going on?"

 

"Nothing," Bill says, shaken. "I don't know. I - I think I remembered something."

 

Stanford stops. Bill can't remember, not yet. Not yet. It's too soon, Bill is remembering and they never even got a chance to -

 

"What did you remember?"

 

\- (Stanford doesn't know. They never got a chance to -)

 

"It was really fuzzy."

 

( - be -)

 

"Tell me."

 

( - together -)

 

(That's disgusting. Why would Stanford want that? Why would he want to be with Bill again? Why does he see this as a new beginning, a rebirth? Bill is  _badbadbad._ Bill is bad and this is not holy. So many questions. Why would Stanford want to be Bill's again?)

 

(One word answer only.)

 

( S o r r o w . )

 

"I remember," Bill says, "a child with a book. That's it."

 

"It's probably nothing," Stanford says, quickly. "We don't know any children."

 

He's lying again. He's so good at lying, now. This is his second lie, and he doesn't even know why he's doing it, which brings us back to Rebirth and Holiness. Stanford thinks of this as his resurrection. It's messed up but this time, he has a chance. This time, everything can be  _o k a y ._

 

He doesn't know if he wants it to be okay. He wants to hit Bill again. He wants to  _k i l l_ Bill again. He wants to destroy Bill. He wants Bill to go away. He wants all of his feelings to stop. He wants resurrection. He wants to stop feeling things for Bill again, hasn't he  _learned_ that loving is bad, loving is a downfall,  _shit._ He wants to rip Bill right out of his mind. He wants to rip himself apart so that Bill can climb out of him. He wants to cut holes in his skin and watch the blood pour out of him and think about things that could've been. He wants Bill to straddle him again. He wants to be touched. He wants to wake up and drown himself. 

 

There are too many  _wants_ inside of his mind and there isn't enough Bill to fill those  _wants._

 

Bill stares at him suspiciously, but says nothing.

 

"Anyways," Stanford says. "Like I said, it will take a while to get back to Gravity Falls, so I should probably wake up soon, I'll still have to convince Stanley to -"

 

"What's the rush?" Bill interrupts. 

 

"Well - well - well, you want to get your new body as soon as possible, right?"

 

Bill shrugs. "It doesn't really matter to me."

 

"Okay? Then why -"

 

"I just want to spend a little more time with my friend, that's all."

 

 _F r i e n d ._ Bill calls him a friend and Stanford is wanting again. He wants to say:  _we're not friends, Bill, we never will be,_ but Bill has to believe him. He wants to say:  _go to hell._ He wants and wants but all he can do is adjust his glasses (pointless, because they're in his  _mind_ ) and close his eyes.

 

And:

 

H E Y ,

F O R D !

W A K E U P .

C ' M O N .

 

 

Stanley is standing above him, slapping him awake gently.

 

"What..."

 

"Oh,  _good,_ " Stanley says, sitting down next to him. " _Finally._ You've been asleep for, like, a day."

 

Stanford sits up sharply. "What? I have?"

 

"Yeah. And you were makin' some pretty interesting noises in your sleep, too."

 

Stanford feels heat rising in his cheeks, and his brother quickly notices his humiliation. "Um, so anyway," he says, changing the topic, "how'd it go? What's the verdict?"

 

"It went well," Stanford says. "There's one thing, however. We... have to go back to Gravity Falls."

 

Stanford had told him about Bill's want for a human body and how he planned to give in to Bill's wants.

 

He neglected to tell his brother that the body they would have to use was back in Oregon.

 

"What?" Stanley asks. "Why?"

 

Stanford explains it. The robotic body, his dream of Bill. 

 

Stanley frowns. "Can't he just magically conjure up a body somehow?"

 

"No," Stanford says. "It doesn't work like that. Besides, if he could, he'd probably try to run away. This body can be programmed to recognize my signals and make it so that he can never get a certain distance away from me. We can't have him running off."

 

"So you're basically going to handcuff yourself to the dream demon that tried to end the world. What could go wrong?"

 

"It's not like I  _want_ to," Stanford tells him. "It's simply because we have to find out why and how he's back. I can handle him, but others may not be able to if he runs away and regains his memories while on the run."

 

"Can't you just like, put him in that body and then blow it up or something?"

 

"To be honest," Stanford says, and sighs, "once I finish my tests, that's the plan."

 

Stanley stares at him for a moment; it takes some time for it to sink in, for him to recognize it. He's  _seriously_ about to go back to Gravity Falls with his brother just to get a body for a demon who terrorized them. He still doesn't completely believe that Bill's an amnesiac, because Bill is  _Bill_ and he would do  _anything_ to make Stanford his again. That's a disgusting thought - he would do  _anything_ to make the  _world_ his again. Okay, that's better. Stanford would never be his again. Stanford knows better.

 

But his brother is right. If they don't find out what brought Bill back, then the world is in danger. They can't destroy him now.

 

All in all, it's happening too fast. Stanley has been thrown into this and it's just - happening way too fast. He thinks that the world should have given him some sort of a warning.

 

"Well," he says. "It'll be nice to see Soos and Wendy again. When are we leaving?"

 

"As soon as possible," Stanford replies. "We'll have to find a slip to rent in Barrow and then get a rental car."

 

"We-we're not taking the Stan o' War?"

 

"It'd be too much of a hassle to tow it with us all the way back to Gravity Falls."

 

So: he's losing the Stan o' War  _and_ his brother, probably. It's happening too fast. He knows it won't be  _f o r e v e r ,_ but it feels like it will. He finally gets the Stan o' War and the trip he's been waiting to go on for his entire life, and he's losing it.

 

When Bill gets that body, Stanley will be the one to destroy it. He'll make sure of that.

 

* * *

 

Stanley kisses the Stan o' War goodbye.

 

Literally.

 

His brother laughs at him for it, but Stanford doesn't understand what his brother is losing.

 

* * *

 

Barrow is a tiny city and Stanford feels like he's choking.

 

He's felt like choking since he met Bill. Since their first meeting, since Weirdmageddon, since Bill showed up in his dreams with amnesia. Choking, choking, choking. He has no air in his lungs and he's okay with that. He's thought about it. If he died, now, Bill would die along with him, and he's okay with that. It would be ironic, in a way. He created the portal,  _he_ caused this, and  _he_ needs to end it. It would be ironic because Stanford would die in the same way he came to life - loving. It would be ironic because then people would see past his intelligence and see: a hero. He is trying to be something other than intelligent. Love is not intelligence. Love is weakness. 

 

It's a weakness that he's learned to embrace.

 

But no, no, no, he can't die. He hasn't been able to live, yet. His life inside of the portal was barely a life but he fought for it because he wanted to be punished. Punished for loving, for weakness.

 

It would be the easiest way out and Stanford is too stubborn.

 

Barrow is a tiny city. Stanford feels like he's choking.

 

Barrow is a tiny city and the houses are big and spread out; there's too much room in-between spaces, which is uncomfortable. He wants closure, tightness. 

 

He watches from the inside of the bus. The bus is run-down and the seats are falling apart and the inside of it smells like something rotting, but Stanford doesn't mind and his brother doesn't seem to mind either. They'll have to take a while to appreciate things like this, things like small towns and dirty buses, because they don't know where they're heading and they lost everything so  _quickly_ when Weirdmageddon hit - they have to savor the little things because they can so easily be lost. They don't know where they're heading. 

 

They're heading into Gravity Falls and that's the only thing they're certain of. They could be heading into their death, they could be heading into the deaths of everyone they love. It's a terrifying thought that the two of them have been trying to ignore: this is a very real threat. If Bill gets his memories back, no one is safe. If Bill gets his memories back, bad things will happen - even Stanford cannot predict his behavior and Stanford knows Bill like he knows breathing. All that he knows is that he can't keep ignoring it. He has to remember small things, bury them down inside of his mind like photographs, and he can't continue ignoring it.

 

There's something inside of his mind and he doesn't know if it exists because of Bill.

 

There's something inside of his mind that says:

 

  * S t a n f o r d .
  * (You are strong.)
  * (There is something inside of you that can't be torn out and you don't want it to be torn out. You learned this only recently and you think it's probably called strength.)
  * (Stanford), he tells himself, the Thing inside of him tells him, (you can beat Bill now.)
  * (You can do it.)
  * (You can do it.)
  * (You can do it.)
  * (You can do it without crying. You can do it with strength.)
  * (You are strong enough to take him down now.)
  * ( Y o u a r e s t r o n g . )



 

Bill would never tell him this. Bill (with full memories) would never tell him to be strong.

 

No.

 

It's all Stanford.

 

This is interesting; he's never thought of himself as Strong. Only thought of himself as sad. Pathetic. Foolish. He loved and almost ended the world.

 

But he's Strong now.

 

Bill doesn't stand a chance against this new, Strong Stanford.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me reiterate notes from last chapter: I know nothing about boats, so any information here I learned from the internet or family.
> 
> Anyways a few things: I really have trouble with pacing, so if this is going too fast then let me know haha. (And if possible, any tips on how to regulate story pacing would be great?)
> 
> #2 I am making Bill a humanoid here purely for experimentation purposes; I've never written an actual humanoid Bill and I'd like to try it.
> 
> #3 Don't think too hard about the details of this. Just... don't.
> 
> #4 Originally, this chapter was going to be longer as well, but I think where I ended it was pretty good. I'm shooting for this to be really long, so we'll see how long the overall story ends up being. [Bill voice] I'VE GOT BIG PLANS COMING.
> 
> #5 and final: Please tell me what you think! I strive off of feedback. Thanks for reading though! <33
> 
> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


	5. the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams (day i, part i)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And neither the angels in Heaven above_  
>  Nor the demons down under the sea  
> Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  
> Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
> 
>  
> 
> _For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams_  
>  Of the beautiful Annabel Lee

The car is surprisingly nice, for this town.

 

It's clean and black and smells wonderful inside, and Stanley jokingly dubs it the 'Stan o' War III', which elicits a smile and a laugh from Stanford, so Stanley figures that he's doing something good for once, making his brother laugh. Maybe that's all that he's good for. He saved the world but apparently it wasn't enough. He just has to continue making jokes, continue making droll comments, continue making his brother laugh, and then maybe everything will be okay, then maybe everything will go back to the way it was. He has hope that the monsters will crawl back into their hiding spots if he keeps this facade up. He knows that he's wrong, but he has to  _try._

 

Stanley steals a map from the car rental place (- okay, it's not really stealing if they have them sitting on tables underneath signs that say  _TAKE ONE,_ but it's easier for Stanley to believe that he's stolen something, just to remind him that he hasn't changed that much, that he's still the same Stan Pines -) and they climb inside of the car with smiles on their faces. Stanley can't tell if they're smiling because of happiness,  _finally going home, back to Gravity Falls,_ or simply because they feel like they should be smiling, but it doesn't matter; they're smiling regardless of reason, which gives Stanley hope that they can make it through this.

 

Stanley is the only one with actual driving experience, despite the fact that he's horrible at it. Stanford spent thirty years trapped between dimensions, so he doesn't remember much about driving, and Stanley was forced to learn how to drive at seventeen-eighteen-it-doesn't-matter-it-was-too-long-ago, so he takes the wheel. Stanford makes a comment like  _just don't get us killed, Stan,_ and Stanley laughs. That's another thing that gives him hope, laughter. 

 

Their first problem, however, starts when trying to leave the parking garage.

 

Stanford's phone rings. Stanley had bought him a smartphone before they left in the Stan o' War, and Stanford was amazed by the capabilities of it. He set a custom ringtone for Dipper and Mabel's number on the last day of their visit, so that every time they called, he would know.

 

It's pretty awkward, though, when you're trying to drive and you hear your brother's pants scream something about sexy ladies.

 

"Ford," Stan coughs. "What is your phone doing."

 

Mabel had picked it out. The song was mostly Korean and Stanford didn't understand it, but she did a little dance and it was _adorable,_ so he picked that one for their phone, apologizing to Dipper, who had wanted a slower song instead.

 

"It's the kids," Stanford tells him. Stanley responds with an _oh_ and _answer the phone, then._

 

He goes to press _answer,_ but stops. "Wait," he says. "Should we tell them about Bill?"

 

"I don't think so," Stanley says, quickly. "We shouldn't bring 'em into this. They'll want to come back to Gravity Falls and they were this close -" he pinches his fingers together, "- to getting themselves killed by that geometric asshat."

 

"Good point," Stanford agrees. "Their safety is our top priority."

 

He answers the call and is met with Mabel screaming at the top of her lungs.

 

"Grunkle Ford! Grunkle Stan!"

 

"Hey, sweetie," Stanley says. "What's going on?"

 

"Just calling my two favorite great uncles to catch up, that's all," Mabel says, but her words hint at something more. "And also maybe ask for dating advice? Dipper _obviously_ sucks at the whole dating thing, and our parents don't really care, and Candy and Grenda don't know much about it either. I mean, Grenda has Marius, but -"

 

"Dating advice?" Stanford asks. "Mabel, you're much too young to -"

 

"What my brother here means is that he's happy for you," Stanley interrupts. "Don't ask him for advice. He's the squarest square in the universe. Now, your Great Uncle Stan, on the other hand..."

 

"Hey, I am  _not_ a square," Stanford says.

 

"Whatever you say, square," Stanley laughs, and Mabel joins him in laughter. "So anyway, who's the lucky boy, huh?"

 

"Well, actually," Mabel says, and her voice grows quiet. "Do you remember Pacifica?"

 

"Pacifica?" Stanley repeats. "Of course I remember Pacifica. Why -" 

 

It takes a minute for him to realize it.

 

"Oh.  _Oh._ Wait, isn't she still in Gravity Falls?"

 

"She gave me her Skype a few days ago," Mabel says, "and we're supposed to call each other in, like, half an hour, and I'm  _freaking out_ here, and Dipper is off doing some nerd thing, and I tried calling Wendy but she wouldn't pick up, and -"

 

"Calm down, Mabel," Stanford says. "I don't know much about girls, but I can tell you that you have to be subtle. Drop hints here and there that you like her. Don't go too overboard."

 

"Ford, have you  _met_ Mabel?" Stanley asks. "That is literally the worst advice in the world. Don't listen to him. He's never dated a girl in his life and he's not interested in that at all. So, listen. Go overboard. Dress yourself up, it'll make you feel more confident. Just... be Mabel. She'll love Mabel. I promise. Oh, yeah, and flirt a little. Or a lot. Let's go with a lot."

 

"You can't be serious, Stanley."

 

"I am completely serious!"

 

"So, what am I doing here?" Mabel asks. "Too much or too little? You guys are so confusing."

 

"I've seen you around boys, Mabel," Stanley says. "You'll do fine with Pacifica. Just be you. You are the most likable person I've ever met. So, go on already. Get ready for your video date."

 

"Thanks, guys," Mabel says. "Okay, bye! Wish me luck!"

 

The call ends, and Stanford smiles. "I love that kid," he says.

 

"I know," Stanley replies. "I miss 'em so much."

 

They laugh and exit the parking garage and hit the road. 

 

Stanford tries not to think about losing her.

 

(He almost lost them, once.)

 

(It can't happen again.)

 

* * *

 

 

Their second problem occurs about ten minutes after they leave the parking garage.

 

Stanley seems like he's driving with a blindfold on (-  _I might as well be,_ Stanley laughs, and Stanford laughs, too. Then he realizes that his brother isn't joking. -) and there are no cars on the road around them, which is probably a good thing, because the car is slowing down to a stop.

 

 

Stanley frantically hits the steering wheel. "What the -"

 

"Stanley, what did you do?"

 

"What did  _I_ do?" Stanley asks. He can't believe that his brother would  _dare_ to blame this on him. Okay, he can. Stanford has been really good at blaming, in the past. "It's not me, it's this stupid car! It's this stupid town!"

 

"Now, just - just calm down," Stanford says, frowning. "We can call someone to tow it for repairs."

 

Stanley sighs and continues pretending that hitting the steering wheel will accomplish something other than releasing his anger.

 

Until he stops. Wait - this is perfect.

 

He doesn't want to walk into this quickly. He wants to make sure that every moment he has with his brother lasts, because walking into Gravity Falls will be like walking into battle with no armor. That's the thing about battle: things are lost. You lose things in battle. Dignity, respect, worth.

 

Family.

 

So no: he doesn't want this trip to go quickly. They're both afraid and they don't want to admit it. They're both afraid of different things.

 

Stanford's fears:

 

i. Okay, so in this particular fear, he is young. Others would tell him that being young is not something to fear, but they don't know him; youth, for Stanford, means memories of regret. Youth, for Stanford, means r e g r e t . 

 

ii. Okay, so in his next fear, he is on the ground with his body exposed, with his body cut open. His body has been cut open by something, like an autopsy, and oh,  _oh,_ he's  _loving_ again. Love cut him open, love performed the autopsy, love concluded that he is too hollow, too empty, to ever be loved. Look at Stanford-in-this-fear: haunted by emptiness. Look at Stanford-in-this-fear: love haunted him so much that he faded. Turned into medical equipment and science experiments and notes written in ink. Look at Stanford: no one will l o v e him again, and he only knows how to love. Looking back on it, he was always this way. Looking back on it, he always attached himself too quickly to others. He only knows loving. He only knows youth, and regret, and -

 

and Bill Cipher.

 

This fear involves loving and Bill Cipher.

 

It's not a very complicated story.

 

iii. It's not a very complicated story and the story doesn't have a very complicated ending. It doesn't need one.

 

iv. Okay, so in his last fear (not his  _last_ fear, because Stanford has so so so so so so so so  _so_ many fears, but his mind doesn't know how to hold them down, doesn't know how to read them) he is in a pyramid, holding a memory erasure gun.

 

His brother is standing before him and there's a demon inside of his brother's mind.

 

Wait, this isn't a fear.

 

It's a nightmare, a recollection.

 

v. Okay, so in his last fear (not his  _last_ fear, pause. Rewind. Repeat), he is unconscious.

 

He wakes up, slowly, and the sky is a mess of colors, a mess of madness. The air around him smells like fire, and the heat is tugging at his clothes, begging. It's  _hot,_ the weather. Hot. He doesn't remember Weirdmageddon being this hot. 

 

He's back in Weirdmageddon. 

 

His last fear (not really) is Weirdmageddon. 

 

The air is hot and okay, that makes sense, what with the fire and destruction and all of that, everything Bill caused. 

 

(Bill.)

 

Anyways: he wakes up, slowly. His body hurts, his head hurts, his muscles hurt, his bones hurt. Everything just  _hurts._

 

He wakes up, slowly, and his brother is in Bill's hands, and Bill is laughing, Bill is saying  _YOU WERE D U M B ENOUGH TO TRUST ME AGAIN, WEREN'T YOU?_

 

_I MEAN, YOU REALLY BOUGHT THAT WHOLE AMNESIA THING. PRICELESS! FOR A MINUTE THERE I THOUGHT YOU SAW RIGHT THROUGH ME, BUT NOPE! YOU STUPID HUMANS WITH YOUR LOVE. WELL, SIXER, THIS TIME, YOU'RE PAYING THE PRICE OF LOVING._

 

Stanley screams and screams and screams and screams and s c r e a m s until he doesn't, until he goes silent.

 

"Stan," he screams.  _He's_ screaming now. "Stanley! Stanley... Stanley?"

 

This is when he realizes that his brother is  _dead._

 

He turns to Bill, who is laughing. 

 

"I'll stop you -"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stanley's fears:

 

 

i. He loses his brother over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and --

 

ii. over.

 

iii. He's back in Weirdmageddon and the air is warm and hot, and he's being held tight in Bill's hands. So, so, so, so tight. He feels like he's broken a few bones, but showing any sign of weakness is a bad idea. Bad bad bad. There are a lot of bad ideas. It was a bad idea to let Dipper and Mabel go after Bill by themselves. It was a bad idea to trust Bill. They should never have trusted Bill. They should have left Bill inside of Stanford's mind. They should have known that the amnesia was fake.

 

But! It's okay. Stanford will get him out of this. Stanford will talk to Bill and then Bill will release him and they'll defeat him, again. Twins can read each other's minds and Stanley knows that his brother is thinking of something.

 

Bill burns him from the inside out and the last thing Stanley remembers is  _f e a r ._

 

iv. He doesn't care about himself. Why should he?

 

v. He watches Stanford 

 

f

a

l

l

 

for Bill like a fool, like an idiot.

 

Like an angel being cast down.

 

He watches Stanford

 

f

 

a

 

l

 

l

 

for Bill and nothing is the same.

 

Stanford said this wouldn't happen and he is a  _liar._

 

Stanford said -

 

 

 

 

 

"How long is that gonna take?" Stanley asks.

 

"Does it matter?"

 

"I guess not," Stanley frowns, and considers screaming  _I hope it takes forever._ "Just wanna figure out how long it'll be before we can get back on the road. I'm gettin' antsy."

 

Stanford stares at him and, for a moment, Stanley thinks that his brother is on to him.

 

"Okay," he says, and Stanley breathes a sigh of relief. "You call. Do you think I should go talk to Bill?"

 

"Do whatever you want. Yeah, go ahead. It's probably gonna take a while for them to get here, so. Entertain yourself, or whatever."

 

* * *

 

 

He tells Stanley to wake him up at four, and _apparently_ , it takes a while to fall asleep when you're in uncomfortable positions such as having your head shoved against the dashboard of a car while your legs fall asleep and tingle.

 

Honestly, though, Stanford doesn't mind. He's almost  _excited_ to -

 

Bill is getting used to it, Stanford disappearing and reappearing and the scenery changing arbitrarily. It still takes him a while to adjust to the sudden changes, but he's getting better at that. He's in the back seat of a car, now. It's interesting. He looks out of the window but only sees gray.  _Figures._ What did he expect to see? Fields, probably, with flowers and trees and happy birds. He's never seen any of that before, and he thinks that it would be a nice view.

 

He'll be able to see many beautiful things once he has an actual  _body._

 

"Hello, Sixer," Bill says,  _sings._ "How's it going? How's my body coming along?"

 

"Something has... arisen," Stanford says, watching him from the rear-view mirror. Bill feels anger boiling up inside of him.

 

 

"Ẅ̙̙͕͈͈́̽̎ͭH̡̰̣̰̒̍̇̚Ȧ̗̫͓͙T̖̯͓̭̫̝̿̄͗̿?͓̤" 

 

Stanford leans forward, lets out a small gasp of fear, and Bill calms himself. He never meant to make Stanford  _s c a r e d ._ It's funny: he thinks that at some point, he wanted Stanford to be scared of him. Terrified. That's not the case anymore. Now he's just - fascinated. Stanford is an anomaly with six fingers on each hand and he hates Bill and Bill is  _fascinated._

 

"There are some transportation complications," Stanford says, "but it shouldn't matter to you. I don't think time exists for you here."

 

"Time is dead and meaning has no meaning, basically," Bill agrees, and it makes Stanford stiffen. He has heard this before. Bill said this, at the very beginning of Weirdmageddon.

 

"Yes, exactly." Stanford says quickly. He bites his lip. "Why do you care so much all of a sudden?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"Well," Stanford says, "when I first told you about this body, you didn't seem very excited. Why now?"

 

"I've had some time to think -"

 

"No, you haven't."

 

"Don't interrupt me," Bill says, and Stanford is  _scared_ again. Why does Stanford become scared every time Bill does something? It doesn't make sense. "Anyway, I've had some time to think, and I decided that I'd be able to do so many things with a body. Eat -"

 

"Robots can't eat," Stanford says, and Bill  _glares._

 

"What did I say about interrupting me? Now, where was I... I'd be able to eat, sleep -"

 

"Can't do that, either."

 

"S̟͎̦ T̵̢͕̠̭̖̙̖͢ Ǫ͈̘̗̺̝͈̯ P҉̨̛͙̬̳͔̠̦̣"

 

Stanford is shaking, now. Bill never wanted him to shake, Bill doesn't know what he did wrong. He can't help it: he just gets so  _a n g r y._

 

He almost says  _sorry._ It doesn't come out, though; the words are like acid. Or they would be, if he had a body. Acid seeping through skin-metal. Bill Cipher does not say sorry. Bill Cipher feels like he's not supposed to feel regret in any way. Bill Cipher is not an apologetic person. 

 

"Okay," Bill says. "Guess it doesn't matter that much. It's just... I can't wait to experience life outside of the mind of the asshole that's basically keeping me prisoner."

 

"That's fair," Stanford says, because it  _is_ fair and Stanford  _is_ essentially keeping him prisoner. It's not like he asked for this. It's not like he  _wanted_ Bill to come back. It's not like he's  _enjoying_ having Bill crawling around inside of his mind. Bill being freed will be perfect for both of them. Stanford will finally be able to get some  _rest._

 

And Bill will finally be able to - "experience life". Which, now that Stanford thinks about it, is uncharacteristic for Bill. Bill doesn't care about  _life._

 

"You're playing with me, Bill," he growls. "What do you  _really_ want?"

 

"I just told you," Bill says. "Were you even listening? You're not very good at listening to -"

 

"What do you  _ **want,**_ Bill. Tell me. Stop playing games."

 

Bill stops. He's not the angry one, anymore. He never knew Stanford could be this angry. Okay: Stanford has been angry since their first meeting, but there's something in his voice that's different, this time. Strong vexation.

 

Bill doesn't know how to feel.

 

"Ford," he says, quietly. "What was I like, before I lost my memories?"

 

Stanford looks confused, for a moment, like he doesn't understand why Bill would ask him this. His face wrinkles up. "Wh - what?"

 

"What was I like before the whole amnesia thing?"

 

"Remember when I told you 'you're a demon that tortured me and tried to kill my family'?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I wasn't joking."

 

"Oh," Bill says, and for a moment Stanford thinks that he's going to say _sorry._ His voice lowers, falters, at the end of his _oh._ Stanford knows Bill and Bill is not a creature of regret. But -

 

"See, I knew I was important!"

 

Stanford is an idiot. What did he expect? Did he _actually_ expect Bill to say _sorry?_ Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry. Stanford is sorry for a lot of things (loving, namely, loving and regretting) but Bill is _never_ sorry. Sorry. The only _sorry_ that Bill is, is not a regretting sorry. It's a pitiful sorry. It's a sorry that says _look at you, you pathetic demon, stuck in the mind of the man you tortured. Look at you, so forlorn. This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

_This is what you get._

 

"You never change, do you?" Stanford sighs. He lets out a small, sad laugh. "No memories, no idea of who you are, and you're still a genuinely horrible monster. It must be hardwired into you, or something."

 

"Hey, I am  _not_ a horrible monster!"

 

"Bill," Stanford says, "you sent five-hundred volts of electricity into my brain, multiple times. You chained me up, sang to me, ridiculed me. You chased my family around and threatened to kill them if I didn't cooperate with you."

 

"But that's in the past -"

 

"You tortured me so much that I had a metal plate installed in my head to keep you out of my mind. You branded your image into my hips. You turned one of my family members into a living sock puppet and tormented him so much that he had to go to the hospital. You - you tried to merge our dimension with a nightmare realm in an attempt to end our world, and  _succeeded!_  And you - you - you played with my emotions. You - you told me that you loved me and then you betrayed me and laughed in my face. So, no, Bill, it's not in the past. And you  _are_ a horrible monster."

 

Stanford is crying, now, and Bill doesn't like it. He wants to poke Stanford and make it stop. He wants to burn Stanford's insides and make it stop. He wants to kill Stanford and make it stop. He wants to shut Stanford up and make it stop. He wants to wipe Stanford's tears away and make it stop. He wants it to  _stop._ He doesn't think he can handle crying. Human emotions are foreign and  _stupid._ Why can't Stanford just stop crying? Why can't he just  _get over it?_ Why does he have to make such a big deal out of this? Yes, Bill is (was) a bad person, but he's not even giving Bill a  _chance._

 

"I can change, you know!" Bill says. His voice is slightly weak. "Repent!"

 

"Bill, you're not capable of changing," Stanford says, taking his glasses off and wiping his face. Oh, he showed  _weakness._ What a stupid, foolish thing to do. "We both know that."

 

"Now, listen here," Bill says, and he moves through the seat effortlessly, like a spirit. He rests on Stanford's lap again, and Stanford doesn't have the emotional strength to push him away. Bill is blurry without his glasses, so Stanford leaves them off, rests them on the car dashboard. He doesn't want to see Bill clearly. Not like this, not with Bill on top of him. The sight is getting too familiar and Stanford has to block it out any way he can. "I can change. I can change so hard you won't know what hit you. I can be a good person!"

 

"You're not a person," Stanford hisses.

 

Bill takes his hands, intertwines their fingers. In another universe, it would be touching, but in this one, Stanford is terrified.

 

"Doesn't matter," Bill responds. "I can be  _so_ good that you'll beat yourself up for  _ever_ doubting me. Got it? Remember, I don't have my memories. I'm a blank slate. Right now I'm neutral. It's up to you if I become good or bad."

 

"What do  _you_ want to be?" Stanford asks, and Bill squeezes his fingers. He doesn't know what he wants to be. He wants to prove Stanford wrong, he wants to laugh in his face,  _I can be good,_ but he feels a darkness inside of him, calling to him. He's trying to resist it. He doesn't want to give himself over. It's particularly hard, and Bill thinks he's new to resisting. Before he lost his memories, he thinks, he probably didn't know how to resist.

 

"You're hurting me," Stanford says, and Bill loosens his grip, without thinking.

 

"I don't know," Bill admits. "I know that I want to prove you wrong. I want to make sure that you feel bad. I want to make sure that you hate yourself for thinking that I'd ever hurt you."

 

"That doesn't make you good," Stanford breathes. He stares deeply into Bill's eye. "That kind of thinking just makes you even worse."

 

Bill frees Stanford's hands, and Stanford thinks everything will be okay until Bill's hands grab the back of his hair. It's not painful. It's almost like desperation. Bill's eye is moving closer to his face. "Then what do I  _do,_ " Bill says. "You keep telling me that I'm irredeemable. But then I try to redeem myself and you tell me that it just makes me worse. What am I missing? I don't know if I want to be good, I just know that I want to make you suffer. Without hurting you. Or maybe I want to make you suffer by hurting you. I don't know. What the hell am I supposed to do here?"

 

"You're not capable of changing," Stanford says. He spits into Bill's eye. "I told you that."

 

Bill's eye closes, and he turns red for a moment, until he realizes that Stanford is  _panting_ and he stops, forces himself back to yellow. Normal. He blinks the spit out of his eye.

 

"That was rude," he retorts. 

 

"You deserved it," Stanford says. "You deserve way more than that. Maybe it makes me bad, but I want to see  _you_ suffer, for once. No one is completely, one-hundred-percent  _good._ I don't care if it makes me a bad person. You hurt me and now it's your turn to hurt."

 

Bill's hands don't leave his hair, Bill only leans forward,  _close, his eye is so close, he's so close,_ and -

 

There's a loud, buzzing noise. 

 

"Wake up, they're here."

 

Stanford jolts up with a gasp. "What-"

 

"To tow the car," Stanley says, from outside of the window. It's rolled half-way down. "You know, take it in for repairs?"

 

"Oh, right, of course," Stanford sighs. He climbs out of the car.

 

He doesn't even notice that he's shaking until his brother asks: "Hey, you okay? You're shaking like a - like a -" He stops. "Like something that shakes. I can't think of a metaphor. But you're shaking."

 

"I don't want to talk about it," Stanford says. He holds his hand up and watches it tremble. "I'm - I'm hungry, all of a sudden," he says. He isn't that hungry, but he wants the topic to change, and he knows his brother  _loves_ food.

 

"Me too," Stanley says. "Let's go find somewhere to eat. And - you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. Just - tell me that you're okay."

 

"I'm okay," Stanford says.

 

He forces himself to smile.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose gangnam style as their ringtone 'cause this takes place in 2012 and that song HAUNTED me in 2012. Haunted. Me.
> 
> The Mabifica in this chapter wasn't originally planned but things happened.
> 
> Also, hoooooooooo, I had a lot of fun writing the scene with Bill and Stanford and Bill's conflict. Like, a lot of fun. Too much fun. These characters are so fun to break! Also, I'm going to hell, probably, but eh. Who cares! I tried to stay true to Bill's character um but I don't think I succeeded very well haha, so I might edit this later.
> 
> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


	6. a kingdom by the sea (day i, part ii)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was many and many a year ago,  
> In a kingdom by the sea,  
> That a maiden there lived whom you may know  
> By the name of Annabel Lee;  
> And this maiden she lived with no other thought  
> Than to love and be loved by me.

_t h i r t y y e a r s a g o_

 

_Stanford wakes up and tells himself that it was a dream, it wasn't real, Fiddleford is crazy, and no one could ever comprehend a love this high, a love this holy. No one could ever comprehend this love story. Stanford thinks that someone should write it down, tell their tale, form a new Holy Book. Stanford and Bill. Every love story has some sort of complication. The parents of the lovers disapprove, fight, people die, the lovers die, but then at least they are together in death._

 

_It wasn't real. Bill is purity, everything Stanford is not. Stanford did not know such holiness until he met Bill and now that holiness is being ripped out of the home it has made inside of him._

 

_He shuts the portal down anyways._

* * *

 

Stanley downs three more cups of coffee ( _“Stan, how can you_ drink _that stuff?” “What? It's energizing!” “It tastes disgusting.” “Yeah, but it keeps you awake.” “But at what cost?”)_ and Stanford tries not to think about Bill. Bill's hands were in his hair and Bill was _s c r e a m i n g_ into his face and Stanford was trying to be calm, trying to not show weakness. Failing. Even with no memories, Bill knows his weak spots, knows what to do to make him weak. It’s not hard - Stanford is weak. He's survived trauma and abandonment and thirty fucking years of being trapped between dimensions and he is _strong_ but also: he is weak. Stanford is strong and weak and it doesn't make sense. It's like an anomaly. His very being, his existence, is anomalous.

 

The waitress comes over to them. Her apron has been embroidered with the name _Abby_ followed by five golden stars. “What can I get for you guys today?”

 

“I'll take a salad, please,” Stanford says, and his brother bites out laughter.

 

“Seriously?” Stanley says. “Ford, that's _rabbit food._ I'll take a burger. With bacon. Everything unhealthy that can be put on a burger. Thanks.”

 

“I have to stay healthy,” Stanford tells him. “Don't you care about your health?”

 

“Yeah, well, I figure I'm gonna die someday, sooner rather than later, so I better make my life good while I have it, and to me that includes burgers, okay?”

 

The waitress is standing in front of their table, mouth open. She decides to walk away as they continue to bicker.

 

Stanford laughs. “Whatever you say, Stanley. I just worry about you.”

 

“Well, you don't need to.”

 

“Of course I do,” Stanford tells him. “I'm always worrying about _something._ And usually that something is you. Or the world ending. It's fifty-fifty, basically.”

  
  
He worries more than he wants Stanley to know, and it's a terrifying thought: his brother dying. He's  _right_ and it has to happen sooner or later, they're not getting any younger, they've both given and given and given and they've both been invaded and tortured and tarnished with loss. Tarnished, tainted; they both know loss like it's the tissue inside of them. They both have bravery around their bones, but it's not enough, and Stanford has never thought about what it would be like, a world without his brother. 

 

He knows that it's a very real possibility, he knows that something will happen, be it Bill or the paranormal or natural causes, but he's never stopped to consider what it would be like.  

 

The waitress brings their food and Stanford watches him eat and thinks about how he was lost, forty-something years ago, when their father kicked Stanley out. He never thought that he was lost. He always thought that he was better on his own. Holier, if possible. He was on his own and he didn't need his brother and he didn't need  _anyone_ except - except there was a void. A consuming, encompassing thing inside of him. It threatened to absorb him. It whispered:  _you are lost._

 

He ignored it, for a while.

 

He was  _lost._

 

He figures that a world without his brother would go a little bit like this:

 

He has to put the Stan o' War II into retirement. The last thing he says to it, before he leaves, is  _we'll meet again, some sunny day,_ and he doesn't stop to wonder why that phrase sounds so hauntingly familiar. He thinks,  _knows,_ that there are other dimensions out there, there are other universes, but he got stuck in the one that stole his brother from him, and that's unforgivable. The universes have never been kind. 

 

He's been through  _everything_ and he's lost, lost, lost, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

 

He goes back to Gravity Falls and stays with Soos and Melody.

 

When the kids call, he can't bring himself to answer.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _ t h i r t y o n e y e a r s a g o _

 

 _"You know, Fordsy," Bill says, taking Stanford's chin in his hands, and Stanford can't help himself, Stanford is looking up at him and thinking:_ this is holiness, this is something I could bury myself in.  _"You've been doing so good over the past few days. Here, let's relax! Talk about our future for a while."_

 

We have a future  _rings through Stanford's head. Oh, they have a future. He's not going crazy and Bill feels the same way about him and they have a  f u t u r e ._

 

_"Okay," Stanford says. "What about it?"_

 

_Bill releases him. "I have an idea," he says. "And you're gonna love it!"_

 

_"What's your idea?"_

 

_Bill puts an arm around him. "You want to figure out the cause of the weirdness in Gravity Falls?"_

 

_"More than anything."_

 

_It's a lie. The only thing that Stanford wants is Bill. He wants Bill more than anything in the world. He wants Bill, like something endless. An endless want, an endless need to be consumed by something higher than comprehension. Desire is new to Stanford. He has never felt true desire until he met Bill Cipher. Now desire is the only thing that he knows, like a home, a castle in the sand, a pyramid in the sky. He is the king of this castle but desire is the rightful ruler of the land that is Stanford Pines. He feels like he should be in control. He feels like he should be in control._

 

_That's a lie, too. He lost control the day he met Bill._

 

_"We can figure it out, together," he says, and that's the only thing that Stanford has ever wanted Bill to say: t o g e t h e r. "We can build a portal to the center of Gravity Falls' anomalies. You can explore it. It will have the answer to anything you've ever wondered!"_

 

_"When can I start?"_

 

* * *

 

The restaurant is just about to kick them out when they get a call, telling them that their car has been repaired. Then they're on the road again, forced expressions on their faces. They're both tired. Stanley is tired of interruptions, Stanley wants to rest. He never really gets a chance to rest. Every minute time passes and something else happens, every minute time passes and Stanley is thrown into something else, something tiring, something tainting, taxing, scarring. Every minute time passes and Stanley doesn't get to rest. Every minute time passes and Stanley forces himself awake. Every minute time passes and Stanley feels like he's being cut open, every minute time passes and Stanley wants it all to s t o p .

 

Stanford is tired for a different reason.

 

He's tired because he has spent his entire life running from things. Running from other children, running from his brother, running from his ruined future, running from Bill Cipher. He ran from so many things, but especially Bill. He's still running. He's only good at running. At some point, however, his body will fade and crack and every minute time will pass and he will just deteriorate even further, every minute time will pass and his last words will be Bill Cipher. He's been close to his last words multiple times, too many times, too many almosts, but every time he came close they were always the same:  _Bill._

 

He survived because that's what he's good at. Surviving. Surviving and running. You can make a life out of surviving and running. It wouldn't be a very fulfilling life, but it would be a  _life._ You can live and you can survive and they are two very different things. When you survive as much as Stanford has, you start to notice the differences. Living is being with your brother in the ocean, fighting off anomalies and feeling like you are finally a Savior.

 

Surviving is resorting to major surgery to get demons out of your head. Surviving is paranoia. Surviving is scars and brands. Surviving is surviving, and every minute time passed and Stanford wasn't sure if he could continue surviving. He's glad that he did. He's glad that it was worth something.

 

Stanford says something like  _finally_ and Stanley bites the insides of his mouth as he drives. Finally, finally, finally. Stanley wonders how his brother can act so eager to walk into this certain death.  _No,_ he thinks,  _he's not eager. He's just pretending. It's okay. We all pretend._

 

"Y-yeah," Stanley says. "Finally. I'm not taking the car back, though."

 

"You have to take the car back," Stanford tells him.

 

"Nah," Stanley laughs. "Those repairs came out of  _my_ pocket. The car rental place can suck it."

 

Stanford decides that arguing is useless, so he stops, and they drive around in silence for a while. It's funny: silence is something that can so easily be taken for granted, but when you're Stanley and Stanford Pines, you don't get much silence. Silence is beautiful. You notice things in silence, like how the sunset looks, or how calloused your hands are, or how depressed your brother looks.

 

Stanley is d e p r e s s e d and Stanford hates himself, silently, because he hasn't noticed it up until this moment, because he said that Stanley is his hero and he saved the world and he didn't

 

even

 

stop

 

to check if his brother was okay.

 

What kind of person does that make Stanford? What kind of brother does that make him? Time passed, and Stanford isn't full of joy, either, he's filled to the brim with a drumming sadness, but Stanford made a  _promise._ That promise was:  _never be the person that you were thirty-something years ago._ He told himself that he would be a better person (not that he was a horrible person before the promise, not that he was unholy,  _no_ ) and so he buried it down inside of him, like the kind of secrets little kids keep.

 

Time passed, and everything was too late, and here is Stanford, in the present. Every minute time passes and then he's in the present. Every minute time passes and the breath that he took seconds ago is in history. He doesn't like to think about history and he doesn't think about time. If only there was a way to stop time from passing, if only. The present isn't as good as it may sound, just like how Stanford isn't as good as he makes himself out to be. He said it himself: no one is completely  _good._ But, he thinks, there are people that are completely bad, that are incapable of change. People like Bill Cipher. Bill isn't a person but he's an old haunt, an old ghost, that can never learn how to be good, how to be Pure. Purity is not something that he knows. 

 

Stanford sighs, and his brother sighs as well. Then his brother says: "Shit," and Stanford sighs again. 

 

"What?"

 

"It's nothing," Stanley says quickly.

 

There are no cars on the road around them. Actually, there's no  _road_ around them.

 

"Where are we?"

 

Stanley stops the car. "I don't know," he admits. "I started thinking about - things - and then I was just... here. In this field."

 

"So we're lost."

 

"I wouldn't say  _lost,_ " Stanley says, and laughs awkwardly. "We just... don't know where we are at the moment. That's all. We're not  _lost._ "

 

"That's synonymous with lost," Stanford tells him. "That's the actual definition of lost."

 

"I swear, if you're pulling another  _grammar, Stanley,_ I'll -"

 

"No, no, never-mind that. How did you manage to get us in this situation?"

 

"I'm not sure," Stanley says. "But -"

 

He stops himself. Stanford can't know,  _can't know._

 

"But what?"

 

"But - but maybe there's an upside to this."

 

"An  _upside?_ " Stanford asks in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

 

"Well... the way I see it, is..." Stanley looks away. There are a few tears poking at his eyes, but he can't wipe them away, he can't let his brother know that he's sad, that he's scared, that he can only see loss. "Is - is - is - I don't want to go back to Gravity Falls, okay? I don't - don't want to lose you. This whole thing with Bill is scaring me. And you seem to be perfectly fine with just waltzing back to Gravity Falls and giving the demon who  _tried to end the world_ a new, physical body. Like it's nothing. Well, I don't like it, Ford."

 

"You - you think I'm fine with this? You think that I'm not scared of what Bill could do if he gets his memories back? You think it isn't tearing me apart knowing that, even with no powers, Bill could kill you or torture you? You think I'm fine with just letting him back into our lives? I'm  _not,_ Stanley. But it's the only way. If we don't find out how he's back, then the world could be in danger. We - _you_ \- would be in danger. The kids would be in danger. Everyone we care about could be lost."

 

"I know," Stanley says, and finally decides that he can wipe his tears, "I know. Trust me, I know. I'm probably just being selfish."

 

"You're not being selfish," Stanford tells him. He takes Stanley's hand. "It's a normal, human fear. It's a perfectly normal reaction to this situation. Now, let's try to get ourselves out of here, shall we?"

 

"Yeah," Stanley says, "I guess finding our way back to an actual road would help."

 

They smile at each other and drive off.

 

Stanford should have seen this coming.

 

* * *

 

 

_t h i r t y o n e y e a r s a g o_

_Bill looks at him like a hungry animal. Starving, growling. Like something that hasn't eaten in so, so long._

 

_Stanford thinks that he could get used to this. He knows not to feed the animals. His entire life, he was taught to be Above._

 

_He has a second chance, now. He thinks that it's like penance. Like Bill came from Above to save him._

 

_He would offer himself to Bill's hunger if he could._

 

 

* * *

 

 They finally get back on the road as it turns dark. 

 

They're still holding hands.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_ t h i r t y y e a r s a g o _

 

_When Stanford brings up building a robot, Fiddleford doesn't question it. He simply says: "You've come to the right guy!" and they start working on it right away._

 

_The final design of the body looks like a contradiction: bright silver skin with golden hair. Fiddleford and Stanford are proud of it nonetheless._

 

_Stanford doesn't tell him what his intentions for the body are, and Fiddleford doesn't seem interested in knowing._

 

* * *

_After Bill's betrayal, Stanford considers destroying the body. Bill never had a chance to inhabit it, and it's only a painful reminder of what he's lost. Wire digging into skin._

 

_He decides against it and doesn't know why._

 

* * *

 

 

Stanley hasn't slept in a day.

 

Stanford tries to get him to sleep but he refuses, saying,  _it's better if we get there as quickly as possible._ They're in Kelowna and they still have about ten hours to go before reaching Gravity Falls, and Stanley just won't _listen_. Stanford tries everything: "We won't be able to get there as quickly as possible with you sleep deprived, Stan." "If you don't sleep, we'll get in an accident." "Don't make me knock you out."

 

Stanley ignores him and continues driving, because he has to continue driving, because his brother is  _right_ and they have to figure out what brought Bill back, they have to stop Bill, they have to -

 

He's been working himself to the bone, honestly. Spreading himself too thin. If he works and works and works, drives and drives and drives, then he can forget. Forgetting is easy, it's the easy way out, but Stanley has discovered that he just doesn't  _care_ anymore.

 

He will do whatever it takes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter may not be the best. I'm recovering from sickness. I've edited it to death and I'm still not happy with it, but... 
> 
> Anyways: I just wanted to say that I **really** love and appreciate every single comment I get!! You guys are too wonderful and sweet!!
> 
> So I wanted to make this chapter a filler chapter, because the next few chapters will not be soaking with angst!!!!!!! Get ready!!!!! I can write fluff!!
> 
> Also! A lovely commenter sent me a song that they thought went with this fic: Distance Disturbs Me by Set it Off. I listened and it fits like....... SUPER well, so I am now making Distance Disturbs Me the official song of this fic. (Well, besides We'll Meet Again.) Give it a listen!


	7. interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERLUDE. One small line about suicide happens, but it's small, just a warning. See end notes for explanation.

i.

 

X  O  L  O  T  L

 

M Y T I M E H A S C O M E T O B U R N

 

I I N V O K E T H E A N C I E N T P O W E R T H A T I M A Y R E T U R N

 

ii.

 

 

_Bill has seen and destroyed many galaxies in his time, but none like Stanford Pines. He's a galaxy in a way, with a beautiful mind. His mind is beautiful, but foolish, because even though Bill deserves this worship, Bill doesn't understand how someone as smart as Stanford Pines can't see how rotten he is._

 

_That's what Bill is - rotten. The poison apple in the fairytale, the spinning wheel that Stanford will prick his finger on and then fall deeply in love, like an angel falling, like a building being demolished, like someone choosing to end their life and falling. Falling, falling, falling. He will prick his finger on the spinning wheel that is Bill Cipher, the rotten, and fall fast asleep. Stanford is the angel, the building, the soul. Here they are, in Stanford's mind, in a place where they can both be sorry souls, in a place where Stanford can look at Bill and see something to love, a place where Stanford can delude himself into thinking that Bill has a soul or any regrets. Here they are, in the galaxies. Just them, forever and ever. Here they are, in Stanford's mind. This is fun! It's like a fairytale, it's like a story that will never come true. Bill loves stories, Bill loves burning the pages on which they exist and writing his own._

 

_Once upon a time, there was a Muse, except this fairytale is different and here there are no happy endings. Once upon a time, there was a Muse except this Muse was rotten on the inside. This Muse found a galaxy that he could manipulate between his fingers. That's what Stanford is - a galaxy. A home to many things: intelligence, beauty, foolishness. Many things live inside of Stanford Pines. Insignificant organisms. Like humans, Bill supposes. This galaxy is unlike anything Bill has ever seen. This fairytale is new. There are no poison apples or spinning wheels here. There's only the big, bad wolf, and the man who was foolish enough to look at the wolf and see something other than teeth and claws and rotting._

 

_Once upon a time - the story ends there, at once upon a time. It's more like:_

 

_Stanford's mind is his own coffin._

 

iii.

 

_Stanford's mind is white and this is too easy. This is all too easy. It's -_

 

_oh, **no.**_

 

iv.

 

_Bill doesn't know where he is. He knows that everything is still white and his eye hurts and something hurt him, stripped him of power, and -_

 

_and then he's staring at himself, like a mirror. He thinks that he's always hated mirrors._

 

_His double takes his hand and laughs._

 

 _"They thought they got rid of us," it says._ It.  _"Now, let's show them how wrong they were."_

 

 _Bill knows instantly that this t h i n g is him, but he doesn't know who he is. He has no identity. He says:_ what,  _and his double laughs again._

 

_"Don't worry!" It says. "You'll get your memories back soon enough. Try not to be too pathetic while I'm gone, though."_

 

_Then his double transforms into a monster and disappears._

 

_v._

 

_Stanley and Stanford say their goodbyes to Wendy and Soos before setting sail in the Stan o' War._

 

_Wendy wraps Stanley in a big hug. She says: "Thank you," and "I'll miss you guys," and "Come back soon, okay?"_

_Soos cries. He hugs them both at the same time._

 

_Stanford has always been uncomfortable with hugging, but his brother only knows how to touch, so he's used to it, now. He pats Soos on the back, and tries to ignore the fact that he's being hugged so tightly that he's choking._

 

_vi._

 

_Their first day on the Stan o' War is awkward._

 

_Stanley is disturbed by the lack of space, but Stanford just laughs and says that now, they can never be apart, and this is what you wanted, isn't it, Stanley?_

 

_Stanley doesn't remember what he wanted._

 

_vii._

 

_There is a name for this, in Greek._

 

_Hamartia._ _Ha·mar·ti·a. N_ _oun: a fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine._

 

_Stanford takes a while to remember Bill, his fatal flaw, his downfall. Bill will always be a part of him, like something that was placed inside a wound, the wound-of-loving on Stanford's skin. Like something that was placed inside of him. When he tore out that part of him, that heart, that loving wound, something was created to fit inside of that empty piece. A memory, a hamartia. A reminder: this is what happens when you love selfishly._

 

_So he tries not to. Love, that is. That wound is still gaping. That heart is still beating. That hamartia is still encompassing._

 

_Even the sun will die, someday._

 

_viii._

 

_Stanley asks him if he is okay, and Stanford swallows._

 

_"Yes," he says, but Stanley can tell that he's lying._

 

_"Do you know much about fairytales?" Stanford asks, and Stanley's eyes widen._

 

_For some reason, he does._

 

_For some reason, their minds both think the same thing:_

 

_g a l a x i e s._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be wondering: "Stefan??? What are you doing??? Where's the update?!??!??! Why an interlude????????????????????????!!!?!?!?!?!"
> 
> Well, I'll tell you. There are a number of reasons, such as:
> 
> 1\. I've been writing some random stuff about this fic that I didn't plan on fitting into the story. It was mostly to help me get over writer's block, but I felt that I needed to include something after last chapter and before the next, because...
> 
> 2\. ... we are transitioning to the next part of the story!! Yay!! The next chapter will be out in a day or so. I'm still writing it haha.
> 
> Some stuff shown here will be explained in future chapters (like the events of section IV.)


	8. this life ain't no love song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My heart will be blacker than your eyes when I’m through with you
> 
> And I said, this life ain’t no love song while I marched on blindly  
> And my knuckles dragged across the walls  
> And the birds up there mock me and the scenery’s turned wicked  
> And your name is trapped beneath my tongue

They pull into Gravity Falls at seven in the morning, and Stanley is trying to keep himself from passing out. Stanford takes his arm and guides him up to the door of the Mystery Shack, while Stanley grumbles things such as  _I don't need your help_ and  _I can walk on my own, y'know_ while yawning between each sentence. Stanford only glares at him and laughs sadly. Now his brother is the one who isn't sleeping. Stanford wonders if his brother is haunted at night, too, just like he is. They're different haunts, but the same. Always the same: loving and losing.

 

Soos' face lights up when he sees them.

 

"Hey, guys! You're back!"

 

He hugs them both. Quickly, which is a relief for Stanford, as he can't stand strange touch.

 

(He used to embrace touch, but he's been scarred. He rose from the ashes of touching, like a phoenix, and decided:  _no more._

 

That's a story for another time.)

 

"Yeah, yeah," Stanley says, in an attempt to hide his smile. He's missed Soos more than he wants to admit. "How's business been?"

 

"Good," Soos says. "But everyone's missed you, dude. Things just haven't been the same without you around."

 

It's a weird thought: people missing him. Stanley doesn't remember anyone missing him. It's new, and he's not sure if he likes it. It's a weird thought, not knowing if he wants to be missed. On one hand: it's a nice feeling. People missing him when he's not around. On the other: he doesn't feel important enough to be missed.

 

"Okay," is all that Stanley says, before nearly falling to the floor. Luckily, Stanford catches him, and brings him back up to a standing position. He wraps his arms tightly around his brother.

 

"If you'll excuse us," Stanford says, "I have a brother that hasn't slept in  _over a day._ " His voice turns into a sharp snap around the last words. If Stanley was awake, he would probably give an angry retort, but he can only say  _well... I'll... you... we.... driving..._

 

Stanford gives an awkward laugh and shuffles him off to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The body is still sitting underneath a blanket in Stanford's study, and it takes a while for him to upgrade it to modern technology. This is because he's not very familiar with modern technology - he had made a goal of studying it after he adjusted to life outside of the portal, but that goal ended up unaccomplished because of Weirdmageddon's events and Bill's torture. It took him a while to recover from the torture, and he still hasn't fully recovered - many days were spent with Stanford sobbing, making sick and fragile noises. (Weak noises.) (W e a k.) He had Stanley to comfort him, but it never felt like enough. Stanford never feels like anything is enough. He's not enough. The world isn't enough. Nothing is enough. He's never calm enough, never smart enough, never kind enough. He just wants a  _break._

 

He knows that people like him don't get breaks.

 

He's making a vessel for Bill to possess, and Bill is a lot of things: Stanford's first love, Stanford's biggest regret. Bill is a lot of things: a gunshot wound, a knife to a chest, a scar. He has many scars, emotional and physical. They still hurt, sometimes, and the scar of Bill Cipher, the scar that is his entire body, his entire mind, his entire existence, his purpose, never stops hurting. Bill is a lot of things, and here Stanford is, making a vessel for this scar to possess with shaking hands.

 

He's  _t r e m b l i n g ._ He thinks that if Bill could see him, now, he would be laughing. Weakness is a constant for Stanford. Eternal. He thinks that there are many things that he eternally is, just like how there are many things that Bill is. He is, eternally, sick. He is, eternally, fragile. He only knows frailty. It's like ouroboros, he thinks, like the snake swallowing itself. He's stuck in this cycle of eternal sickness and weakness and it is  _Bill's_ fault.

 

Most things are Bill's fault, but Stanford can't decide if that's because he hates Bill or because of the impact Bill has had on this world. Both, he decides, like an endless cycle, like --

 

He ignores the shaking and continues upgrading Bill's body. He accidentally cuts his palm open, but he ignores that as well. He ignores everything.

 

If he can continue ignoring, then everything will fix itself.

 

(This is what he tells himself, to make everything seem okay.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

The spell that Bill taught him involves reaching complete tranquility and peace. Which is rather hard to achieve when you're in Stanford's situation - bleeding, stressed, terrified. He positions the body against the bed on the floor, and holds its hands, visualizes Bill's energy flowing from his mind into the vessel, exactly the way that Bill told him to. 

 

They had dressed Bill's body in some of Stanford's old clothes - nothing else they tried on it would fit, but Stanford's black sweater and black trousers seemed to fit perfectly. Fiddleford had joked about the body looking like it was going to a funeral, at one point, and Stanford laughed and smiled. Now he thinks about the joke and swallows. Fiddleford was right, in a way. Stanford can only look at the body and the town around him and mourn.

 

At some point, he feels like he's floating outside of his body, becoming one with the air around him. He's thinking about Bill again, thinking about how easy it would be to just -

 

just -

 

just -

 

 _k i l l_ him, in this new body. Trap him, because Stanford is used to being trapped, he only knows how to be trapped. There are  _so many_ ways that Stanford could harm him, but -------

 

He can't. He wants to - he  _thinks_ that he wants to, he doesn't  _know_ what he wants - but he c a n ' t . That would ruin everything. He has worked so hard for this and that would  _ruin_ it.

 

He doesn't realize that he's achieved complete tranquility until he feels something squeeze his fingers.

 

And then he feels a heavy, metallic hand wrap around the back of his head. He opens his eyes to Bill kissing him. For a moment, and Stanford can't tell if he's doing it out of excitement or anger. He doesn't think that he wants to know.

 

"Don't _ever_ do that again," he says, and pushes Bill down without thinking - Bill lands and his eyes are closed. No movement.  _Shit,_ Stanford thinks, _not yet. Not yet. I never wanted this._ He just got Bill his body and it would be  _so like him_ to die ( d i e ! ) right after obtaining this form. It's not right. Stanford is overreacting. He shouldn't care. He shouldn't care.

 

Why does he care so much? This is what he wanted, isn't it? No, no, no, no, no -

 

(He reached perfect tranquility by thinking about Bill's death. How apt.)

 

He immediately starts searching for any signs of impairment on the body. He didn't mean to do this. It isn't time yet. At some point, it will be time, but not  _now._ He has time. He has time. He has every moment possible, holding them tight against his body, how  _selfish_ he is, keeping all of this time to himself. Selfish is a word that hits too close to home.

 

Bill jerks awake, suddenly, laughing loudly. Stanford jumps back.

 

"Scared you, didn't I?" Bill says. "You're so hilarious. I mean, you were really concerned about me there, weren't you, kid?"

 

"I couldn't care less, Bill," Stanford replies. "Don't do that again."

 

"Do what?"

 

"You know what I'm talking about."

 

"Fine!" Bill says, and chuckles. "I have to thank you, for this form. If you  _really_ want me gone -"

 

"I do," Stanford interrupts.

 

" - then I'm leaving. It's been nice knowing you. All that."

 

He pushes himself off of the ground and makes it all the way to the door before his body stops moving. He's unable to take another step forward.

 

"What the -"

 

"Did you really think I'd let you get away from me that easily?" Stanford says. He's laughing, now. Bill wants to punch him. Bill wants to kiss him again, for some reason, even though that's _disgusting disgusting disgusting._  Bill wants to throw him across the room,  _see how you like it. This is what you get._ "I programmed it so that if you get more than eight feet away from me, your body shuts down. You can only move back to me."

 

"You tricked me," Bill says. 

 

"Of course I did," Stanford says, with pride in his voice. Bill has tricked and deceived him and now it is  _Bill's_ turn to be tricked. The look on Bill's face makes him feel  _something,_ however, deep inside of his stomach. They had designed Bill's body to look as human as possible, but taking one look at him, it's pretty obvious that he isn't. His body is extremely intricate - mostly thanks to Fiddleford's genius - on the  _inside,_ but on the outside he's more like a walking nightmare of clash. Silver skin, blond hair. He's hard to look at. Regardless: his face moves exactly like a human's would, and it's tearing Stanford apart, for some reason. He's  _frowning._

 

"You know," Bill sighs, "I really thought we had something here. I guess I should've seen this coming, though. So, props to you for taking me by surprise."

 

"We had  _nothing,_ " Stanford spits. He's quite proud of himself, for this deception, but Bill's eyes are telling him:  _sorrow,_ Bill's eyes are are cold but animated and they are asking him  _why,_ they are - begging. For something Stanford can never give. Freedom, autonomy. Something else, probably, but Stanford doesn't want to think about that. He stares into Bill's cold, yellow eyes.

 

"You told me that you loved me," Bill says, pushing himself up and walking back over to Stanford. He returns the stare.

 

"I used to," Stanford says. "I don't anymore. The only thing I feel for you now is hatred."

 

Bill takes his chin with cold hands, and their faces get close, and Stanford is terrified, shaking. He wants to push Bill across the room again, but he doesn't know what Bill would do to him if he did, so he just stands, leans into Bill's touch, waits for Bill to do  _something._ He's versatile, he thinks. He can get through anything. He can bounce back from anything. He's done it before, too many times, and he can do it again.

 

"What did that feel like?"

 

"Wh - wait, what?" Stanford asks. He doesn't know what it felt like, he doesn't know how to describe it. Hatred is like fire, but love is indescribable. 

 

"What did that feel like?" Bill repeats.

 

"I had finally opened up to someone," Stanford says, "I finally taught myself how to love. I finally found someone who didn't treat me like I was a freak. You told me I was special, so I started thinking of myself as special. Then you betrayed me, and I felt like something had been torn out of me. Something vital. Only thirty years later did I realize what you took: purpose. You took my purpose away, Bill."

 

Bill's eyes widen slightly, and Stanford thinks again that he might be feeling  _regret._ Then Bill runs his hand down Stanford's cheek and laughs. It's a sad laugh. He says: "Sorry."

 

S   o   r   r   y   .

 

Stanford doesn't believe it. Bill isn't capable of regret, and he's stupid for even  _thinking,_ just for a moment, that Bill can feel. Anything. Bill can feel nothing. He's cold, just like his eyes, just like his silver skin. Cold. You would think that his body would be warm, mechanically overheating, but it's just  _cold._ Bill's hand is around his neck, now, and Stanford is afraid to swallow, afraid to move.

 

"You're not sorry," he says, finally, taking a chance. 

 

"Why can't I be sorry?" Bill says. "You really seem dead set on making me out to be this horrible person. 'Oh, Bill, you tortured me!' 'Oh, Bill, you tried to kill my family, yadda yadda, whatever.' If you ask me, you're just being melodramatic. Why is so hard to believe that I can be good? Why is it so hard to believe that I just might not be the same person I was when you knew me?"

 

"Because you just called my suffering melodramatic," Stanford says.

 

"Well, it  _is_ melodramatic! Why can't you just get over it?"

 

Stanford takes Bill's hand and forcefully removes it from his neck. "You can't just 'get over' something like that," he says. "If you truly wanted to be good, you would know this. It scarred me for my entire  _life,_ Bill. That kind of scarring just doesn't go away, and people who cause scars like that can never atone for them."

 

Bill stops trying to touch him, and Stanford is relieved. "We've been over this before," Bill says, and then: "Maybe I was wrong."

 

"About what?"

 

"Us," he says, and tries to walk off again.

 

Stanford sighs. "Come on," he says. He has a sudden urge to scrub at every piece of skin that Bill touched, until his skin bleeds and he no longer feels tainted.

 

* * *

 

 

He tells Bill to stand outside of the bathroom door while he undresses. It takes him a few minutes to work up the courage to actually take his clothes off, but when he does he peels them off and imagines his skin coming off along with his discarded clothing. He glances down at the outsides of his hips, at Bill's image, and  _spits_ at it. Then he realizes that he's just covered himself with saliva and feels even more disgusting.

 

He spends a lot of time rubbing soap into his skin and hair. It's been a while since he has showered. A week, probably, but he feels like it has been months. That's what happens when you spend your time fighting anomalies and the supernatural and, most recently, a demon inside of your head. You forget to do things like shower or take care of yourself.

 

He's washing the shampoo out of his hair when the door opens and the shower curtain is pulled back. It startles him and soap falls into his eyes, and he screams in pain. He swallows, though, swallows the pain down. He's good at ignoring pain. He swallows and opens his eyes and grabs the shower curtain to cover himself.

 

Bill is trying to climb into the shower with him.

 

"Stop," Stanford says. "You can't come in. You'll short circuit."

 

"So that's the only problem you have with me showering with you?" Bill asks, lips curling up into a smile.

 

"No," Stanford says. "That's the beginning of a long, long list of problems that I have with you showering with me. Go back out there. I'm almost done."

 

"But I'm  _bored,_ " Bill says, voice turning into a song around  _bored._ "It's been like, half an hour."

 

"It's been five minutes," Stanford corrects. " _Go_."

 

"But -"

 

" _Go._ " Stanford's voice is hauntingly firm and rigid and it makes something inside of Bill stir.

 

He exits the bathroom and sits down outside of the door.

 

Stanford scrubs at his skin just a little bit harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I was like: "There will be fluff in the next chapter, I am capable of writing fluff, all that"? Yeah. I'm so sorry! This chapter was the hardest for me to write. Which is weird, since I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while. Consequently, I'm not happy with it at all, but I'm publishing it anyways because my brain hurts from editing it.
> 
> There was supposed to be fluff! But since I tend to project my emotions and feelings onto fictional characters, we got some more angst. There will be fluff when I'm feeling less gross, I promise!


	9. all around me, history sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to be heroic,  
> because all around me history sings.
> 
> So I enjoyed and I devoured  
> flesh and wine and luxury.  
> But in my heart,  
> I am lukewarm

It takes a lot out of Stanley to not strangle Bill on sight.

 

Instead he says, blankly, with fists balled tight, "So this is Bill."

 

"Yep!" Bill says. "That's me. Boy, are all of you Pines so nice looking?"

 

"Can it," Stanley says, releasing his fists slightly. He turns to his brother. "What're you gonna do with him now?"

 

"Yeah," Bill says. "What  _are_ you gonna do with me?"

 

There are many things that Bill hasn't thought about and what comes  _after_ his body is one of them. He hates himself, silently, because he is gullible. He let Stanford trick him - he  _let_ Stanford trick him. He was so excited about the prospect of getting a body that he gave  _in,_ he  _opened himself up._ He is no better than Stanford, now. He is weak. They are both weak, he thinks. Weakness: that's a constant. They have different weaknesses. Stanford's, he supposes, is Bill, and Bill's is excitement. Excitement gets you nowhere, he knows this now. He knows a lot, now. For example: now he knows that he can't trust anyone.

 

(T R U S T N O O N E .)

 

"Run a few tests," Stanford tells them. "Some emotional, some physical."

 

"Shouldn't we get to know each other first?" Bill asks, winking, and Stanford hits him, growls. Little does Stanford know: Bill does this because he's angry. Rage: that is also a constant. So many constants, he thinks. Truthfully, he doesn't know much about Stanford beyond  _I loved you_ and  _you're horrible,_ and he still doesn't know much about himself beyond  _I was once loved_ and  _he thinks I'm horrible and maybe I am, maybe it's true, maybe I'm okay with that, I am b e t t e r ._  

 

He knows something, however, and that  _something_ is that they have a bond. Stanford Pines isn't horrible but Bill is and that's all that it will ever be. Stanford isn't on Bill's caliber but he certainly is  _interesting._

 

"No," is all that Stanford says. Silently, he thinks something about death, and when Bill's face falls he thinks for a moment that Bill can read his mind, that Bill is inside of it again. He thinks about this ever so often, and every single time the thought cuts its way into his mind, it's grating. Jarring. He still doubts himself and this reality and it is  _terrifying._

 

(T R U S T N O O N E .)

 

Stanley looks at them and feels sick inside, feels sickness bubble up inside of him. Bill seems harmless, that's the worst part. You take one look at him now and you feel pity for his outward appearance. He looks like he's not capable of harm. Stanley knows that he is, Stanley knows what he's capable of, Stanley can feel it and he knows that Bill is planning something. He's  _always_ planning something. Bill cannot exist without mystery. Mystery is a word that has haunted Stanley for his entire life.

 

(T R U S T N O O N E .)

 

"Just keep him away from me," Stanley says, and with a quieter voice he adds: "And be careful, okay, Ford?"

 

"Okay," Stanford nods. 

 

Bill wants to say something like  _you don't need to be careful,_ but he's also thinking something along the lines of  _your fear of me is rightful,_ and the contradictions in his mind are painful.

 

Ultimately: he says nothing, and watches Stanley walk away.

 

* * *

 

 

Stanford goes to bed early and falls fast asleep. He leaves Bill on the floor next to him, and Bill knows that he can't sleep but he tries to anyways, squeezes his eyes shut tight and lies down facing Stanford's bed. He's not particularly aware of it but there's a reason for this, a reason that he has to "sleep" facing Stanford: Stanford is all that he knows. He came into existence inside of Stanford. He would be  _nothing_ without Stanford, a parasite. It's stupid. It really, really is. See: Bill is, and always has been, better than this. Better. Higher. He doesn't remember much, but he knows this, a fact imprinted inside of him. Bill: above all.

 

He tries to sleep. He closes his eyes for a few hours-maybe (how long has it been?) but ultimately he ends up like this: eyes fluttering open and remaining so, and as close to Stanford as he can get without waking him. He feels like he belongs like this, in this position. Below Stanford physically, but right next to him.

 

Stanford’s arm is hanging off the edge of the bed and Bill could do so many things to him, while he sleeps. Hurt him, smother him with a pillow and watch him suffocate. Choke him with his bare hands.

 

But here's the thing: Bill doesn't actually want to hurt him.

 

He does. He wants to make Stanford suffer, suffer, suffer but he also wants to change, wants to prove Stanford wrong, wants to make him realize that he is Above this.

 

It's all extremely confusing, and Bill thinks that he is new to emotion - it feels raw and… gross. Disgusting.

 

He watches Stanford’s hand dangle and for a moment, he contemplates touching it. Holds his own hand out, even, but retracts it - why would he want to  _touch_ Stanford in a gentle way? He's good at rough, good at angry. That is all that Bill is good at: rough and angry.

 

He thinks that he wouldn't know how to be gentle if he wanted to. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to.

 

Things that he wants:

 

  * A way out. He wants to escape, to leave, to find a way to get away from Stanford and his roughness, away from being trapped. It's funny: he thinks that Stanford has been trapped before, just like this. It's a feeling he gets, a rough one. An angry one. He is good at this. He is good at this anger and resentment. Stanford has been trapped and Bill knows this and all that he can think is  _good._
  * ~~_Stanford._~~
  * ~~_Oh._~~
  * ~~_No._~~
  * ~~_No._~~
  * ~~_No._~~
  * ~~_No._~~
  * ~~_Try again._~~
  * He wants a way out and he wants Stanford.
  * He never took the time to think about what he wants. He wants these things, these unattainable things. Stanford Pines and freedom. They are opposites, Bill thinks. Two things that differ and contrast. He wants them and Bill knows, more than anything, more than Stanford Pines, more than anger and roughness, how to  _want._



 

He watches Stanford sleep and imagines freedom. In this fantasy, he is free. In this fantasy, he has a life away from Stanford. In this fantasy, he stops imagining freedom and starts living.

 

In this fantasy, he has his memories back.

 

In this fantasy, he  _wants_ them back.

* * *

 

In his dream Stanford is floating above Gravity Falls, like a God looking down among mortals. The world, slowly, becomes smaller and smaller, until he has the galaxy underneath his feet. There's something familiar about this, he thinks, but he can't quite put his finger on it. 

 

In his dream Stanford's hand is hanging off of his bed and Bill is holding it. In his dream he jerks awake and there is Bill intertwining their fingers, and in his dream he is okay with it. No. Wait. No. It's more like:

 

In his nightmare he jerks awake and there is Bill intertwining their fingers, and in his nightmare he is okay with it.

 

Thanks to Bill, Stanford knows a lot about dreams. He knows how to control them, manipulate them to his liking.

 

This one is just lucid. He has no control. If he had control, he would be screaming. If he had control, he would be -

 

It doesn't really matter, he thinks. He doesn't have control. For the first time, he doesn't have control. 

 

It's a painful truth: now that Bill is back, he has no control.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Stanford wakes up at eight in the morning to the sound of his brother screaming. He runs out of his bedroom, terrified - his brother has to be okay, he  _has to_ \- and finds Stanley is the living room in a defensive stance next to a tall, blond stranger. He's kind of  _handsome,_ even, Stanford thinks. Handsome but terrifying. He towers over Stanford, and his eyes look frigid.

 

"What are you doing in my - uh -  _this_ house?" Stanley says. "Who are you?"

 

The man smiles. "Don't be silly," he says. His voice is annoying and Stanford hates it instantly. "You know me! You two have been gone for months, don't tell me that you've forgotten about me already. I mean... we've known each other for years, you know that."

 

For a moment, his eyes almost look like they're glowing. Almost.

 

Stanley goes to say something, but stops, processing it. Then he says, slowly: "Oh, yeah, how could I forget?" He pulls the man into a deep hug. "We've missed you, Ax."

 

Stanford grabs his brother by the shoulder, rips him out of the hug. "Stanley," he says, "we've never seen this man in our lives."

 

"What are you, crazy?" Stanley says, pulling away. "We've known him forever! Do you feel okay?"

 

"I'm  _fine,_ " Stanford says. He turns to the man. Stanley called him Ax - the name feels familiar, shocking. "What are you doing here? Why are you in our house? What have you done to my brother?"

 

"Whoa, relax, relax," Ax says. "You know, I've been worried about your memory for a long time, Ford. Have you been tested for Alzheimer's?"

 

"What - no. My memory is fine," Stanford says, words like a growl. "You're not supposed to be here. You're messing with us, our memories. I don't know how, but you are."

 

Bill had been dragged out to the living room by Stanford's movement. He watches, standing behind Stanford at a cautious distance. This feels familiar. This feels like something he knows. A memory, almost.

 

"Stanford," Bill says, touching Stanford's elbow. "What's going on here?"

 

"I don't think I've met you before, though," Ax says, and takes in Bill's sight. "Wow, you certainly are... something. It's nice to meet you, uh..."

 

"Bill."

 

"It's nice to meet you, Bill," he says, and holds his hand out.

 

Bill almost takes it, almost shakes it, but something stops him, something deep inside of his mind screams  _don't touch him._ He folds his arms behind his back and coughs awkwardly. Something is wrong, here. Something is  _very_ wrong.

 

Ax looks almost  _angry_ when Bill refuses to shake his hand, but his face falls back to happiness and curiosity. 

 

"It's okay," he says. "We'll get to know each other."

 

Stanford looks down and Bill's hand is tight around his upper arm. It should hurt, he thinks, but it doesn't. 

 

"If you'll excuse us," Stanford says. "We have to discuss a few things."

 

* * *

 

 

Stanford drags Bill out of their earshot by the hand - when he takes it, Bill feels sick. Stanford's holding Bill's hand tight and Bill can't feel pain but he thinks that it should hurt, it should be painful, but it's just gratifying. 

 

"Bill," he says, releasing Bill slightly, "Something's wrong. You know that, right?"

 

"Of course I do," Bill says. "Do you think I'm dumb or something?"

 

"No," Stanford says. Bill is many things, but he's not  _dumb._ "I don't know who that man is, but he's got my brother under some sort of a spell."

 

"Yeah, or maybe you're just losing your memory."

 

"Would you shut up?" Stanford says, and sighs. "We have to get to the bottom of this, or else -"

 

 _Or else Stanley is in danger._ He stops and thinks about it, can't bring himself to say it. This is exactly what he feared. His brother in danger. 

 

"Or else what?" Bill asks.

 

"Everyone will be in danger," Stanford finishes. "I don't know what he's capable of or what his intentions are, but right now we assume the worst. For all we know -"

 

"Wait," Bill interrupts. "Are you suggesting that we work together? 'Cause, yeah, that's not happening. Not until you set me free, at least. I couldn't give less of a shit about everyone being in danger or that guy or whatever it is that you're worried about."

 

"This affects you too, Bill."

 

"How?"

 

"Like I said," Stanford tells him, "we don't know what his intentions are. If he wants to hurt us, that includes you. I hate to say it, but you're one of us now."

 

Stanford hates this, being reduced to saying  _anything_ to make Bill join him. The truth is this: he  _needs_ Bill. He doesn't want to need him, but he  _needs_ Bill. He can't do this alone, and something inside of him thinks that this is wonderful, now  _he_ is asking Bill to join him, now  _Bill_ is the subservient one, the lost one. It would be wonderful if there was no danger, if there was time. He thought that he had time. How  _stupid._ That doesn't change: he is always foolish and gullible. 

 

Bill's first instinct is to recoil in disgust at  _you're one of us now._ He's not on Stanford's level, he's above that. He could crush Ax instantly, he thinks, and fix Stanford's problem. But: he can't. He's capable of it but he can't  _touch_ him. Try again: he could crush  _Stanford_ instantly, he thinks.

 

What Bill  _actually_ does is stare at him. "I don't want to be," he says. "I'm not one of you. I'm so much better."

 

"This is not the  _time,_ Bill."

 

"I don't get what you're so worried about," Bill says. "So everyone's in danger. So what?"

 

"I don't expect you to understand," Stanford replies. "You don't have anything you care about. When you care about something, you want to protect it. I want to protect this world, Bill, because I care about it."

 

" _Hey,_  I care about things! I care about so many things!"

 

"What could  _you_ possibly care about?"

 

"Um," Bill stutters, "I care about, um...  _well,_ I care about this body, for one thing. And you, I guess. Probably more stuff, too."

 

 _And you._ Stanford feels - something, like he almost wants Bill to care about him. Bill has never  _cared_ about him before. The thought is  _badwronghorrible,_ but Stanford is experiencing conflict, experiencing something like - like - like caring. There's a lot of caring but Bill isn't capable of it. Bill is capable of  _so many things_ but caring isn't one of them. Still: Stanford is feeling something. It almost touches him, he almost feels touched, but he can't let that happen. He can't give in.

 

"You don't care about me," Stanford says. He's almost convinced.

 

Bill ignores him. "This affects me so I'll help you. But only if we make a deal."

 

"I'm not making any deals with you, Bill," Stanford spits. "I'm not an idiot, despite what you may think."

 

"I don't think you're an idiot at all! You're incredibly smart, kid. You've got a nice brain. So look, just hear me out: I'll help you if you promise to release me when we figure out what that guy's deal is."

 

Stanford thinks about it. There is something off, here. It's happening too fast, time is getting faster, and Stanford is stuck here, with Bill Cipher, and it shouldn't have happened like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to be together, a long, long time ago, but now there is only poison. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. 

 

It was supposed to happen like this:

 

Stanford, Stanley and Bill come back to Gravity Falls. Stanford finds out what brought Bill back and defeats it. He destroys Bill and everything goes back to normal again. Bill is gone for good and Stanford doesn't feel slivers of regret.

 

Now:

 

There is a stranger in their house that has Stanley under a spell, and he is forced to work with Bill. He can't give Bill freedom. He's not stupid. He can't give Bill his freedom, but he knew Bill would pull something like this.

 

He closes his eyes and says: " _Deal._ "

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, actual plot!!!!!! Sorry for the late update, guys. I was swamped with school work - last year I was only taking two classes but then I started high school and now I have to take 5, which is a lot for me, and one particular class I'm taking is extremely involved. Not hard, just extensive - there's a lot of work I have to do. But yeah!
> 
> So there's a strange dude in the Mystery Shack. That's a thing. It should be obvious who he is if you've read chapter 7/the interlude. It might not make sense for a while, but trust that his existence will be explained. See: this story made more sense in my head. But if you're confused, hmu on tumblr at gaybillcipher and I'll spoil it all for you. ;) Thanks again for your wonderful comments btw!


	10. in nature there's no tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for defiling me  
> Language pure as binary  
> Instruct with dishonesty  
> In nature there’s no tragedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading this chapter, please watch [this video.](http://cosmicpines.tumblr.com/post/139395132245/a-x-o-l-o-t-l-my-time-has-come-to-burn-i-invoke) It's a reversal of what he says in his "death scene", where he does indeed invoke a God.

_The actual process of invocation is painful, and this pain is a different kind of pain, worse than getting your eye ripped out and having to regenerate it, worse than being erased from existence. It's a last resort, invoking a God. He's not on very good terms with Xolotl, but Bill knows exactly what He wants - a human vessel. To walk the Earth with the mortals._

 

_So they make a deal. The last time that Bill made a deal with Xolotl, it didn't go very well, but Bill is Powerful now. Holy, now. That was long, long ago, and things are different now. Things change._

 

_Tricking a God is fun, and the look in His eyes as He is forced away is hilarious, but there's one problem, one fatal flaw: it's just not this easy. It can't be this easy, and then Bill is staring at a perfect mirror of himself. He's always hated mirrors._

 

_It doesn't take him long to realize that Xolotl tricked him right back, and he can feel the confusion inside of his double. A pain that's deeper than invocation._

_There's a voice in Bill's head, a deep growl. Barely comprehensible, the voice sounds like a dog's bark and whimper. It says: "You think you can trick me? Congratulations, you've been brought back to life. But you can't take back the world just yet. If you want to gain all of your powers back, you must find him among the mortal world. Touch him once, and you will gain the thing that you most desire. However, that's not going to happen. I'm going to hide him in the darkest place that you know and strip every recognizable part of him away. You've tricked me for the last time, Bill Cipher."_

 

 _The voice disappears and he stares at the thing in front of him, the abomination. It looks at him and says_ what,  _and Bill can only laugh. It's a sad laugh, a broken laugh. His laughter is usually genuine. His laughter is usually maniacal. This laugh is the laugh of someone that is t r y i n g._

 

_He feels a human body encase him, and it's more painful than tricking a God, more painful than invocation._

 

_Then everything is dark._

 

* * *

 

 

 _Bill wakes up in the middle of a forest deep in Gravity Falls. It doesn't take him long to find the Mystery Shack and when he does, he looks deep into the eyes of the man and the woman who work there and says:_ I've missed you guys! 

 

_The woman asks, "Who are you, exactly?"_

 

_"I'm..." He stops. "Ax. Remember?"_

 

_They nod simultaneously, and he breathes a sigh of relief._

 

_He's never been able to do anything like this before. This kind of power._

 

_This is who he is now:_

 

_Ax. It's a stupid name, but now it is his. This is another thing he stole from Xolotl. He's very good at stealing, and for a moment he wonders what happened to Him after the merge and split. He decides that he doesn't care. Xolotl is still out there, somewhere, waiting and growling with his teeth. He will be fine._

 

_He finds a mirror and looks into it, and remembers why he has always hated mirrors: they're like reminders. But this form is tall and handsome, he thinks, so it's not really that bad._

 

_Now he has to figure out what his darkest place is, and tear it apart._

 

_It's happening too fast, again. He was destroyed. They thought that they destroyed him. How foolish. Now he is back and stronger than ever. He's thrown into this but he knows he can make it through._

 

_He thinks now that he knows what Xolotl meant by his darkest place, but finding it is going to be extremely challenging._

 

_It's the reason for his creation and destruction. It's -_

 

_well, he thinks, it doesn't matter._

 

_It will take time._

* * *

 

Bill holds his hand out and Stanford takes it without thinking. He's only thinking about saving Stanley, he's only thinking about hunger. Oh, how hungry Stanford is. It's a weird kind of hunger, and it's weird but Bill knows about this hunger. He doesn't know what he is hungry for. Saving? Action? Normalcy? Bill, again? Oh, no. That's not it. He's hungry for normalcy, yes. Bill and Stanford both know that they don't feel anything for each other beyond hatred. And yet: Bill's teeth are sharp in his mouth, and he feels like biting, occasionally. He looks at Stanford and imagines biting. Releasing his teeth. This is Bill: a beast made of teeth, waiting and waiting and waiting for someone willing.

 

Still: "So we have a deal," Bill says. "Better start working on that now. The sooner I get my freedom, the better."

 

Stanford looks away, slightly, shifts his eyes up to the wood ceiling of the Shack. 

 

Bill notices his discomfort. "Hey, what's wrong?"

 

"I don't know where to start," Stanford admits, eyes still on the ceiling. He can't look at Bill, he can't. "I - I don't know what books to look in, or what to look up on the Internet. For once, I don't know what to do."

 

 _Shit,_ he thinks, noticing a spider web above him.  _Shit,_ he's showing emotion. You can't show emotion around people like Bill Cipher, but Stanford isn't very good at hiding his feelings. Stanford Pines only knows how to feel.

 

"I'll help you," Bill says. "I'll go spy on him."

 

"How are you going to do that?"

 

"Oh, right," Bill says, remembering their situation. "I'll still help you, though. I'll go on the - internet? Whatever that is - while you read. There's nothing we can't accomplish together!"

 

There was a time when Stanford would have fluttered at the sound of Bill's voice saying  _together,_ the highness of it becoming nearly a song, a hymn, but now it's just bitter. 

 

"I don't need your help," Stanford spits. It's strange, Bill wanting to help him. Different. He doesn't like this. "I can do this on my own."

 

"No, you can't," Bill says. "You just said you don't know what to do."

 

"You wouldn't know what to do, either."

 

"But unlike you," Bill says, "I'm actually willing to put effort into this."

 

"If I let you help me will you shut up for once?" 

 

"I guess."

 

"Then fine," Stanford sighs. "You can help me."

 

"Great!"

 

Finally, finally, he looks down and notices that he's still holding Bill's hand. Somehow, it transformed from a handshake into something more. Gentle, almost.

 

He bites the inside of his cheek and pulls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the incredibly short chapter. I'm kinda losing my interest in this fic tbh. I promise to keep writing it though! I just need a little inspiration.
> 
> Some notes on Xolotl: He is the God of twins, monsters, misfortune, sickness and deformities. When I found out that he's the God of twins, this fic came into my mind. Unfortunately I don't think I executed my ideas very well, but... yeah. So. I hope this isn't too horrible, and if you're still reading I applaud you.
> 
> EDIT: I've updated the summary, so maybe reading that will help you make sense of this.


	11. this town is only gonna eat you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This town is only gonna eat you  
> Oh you lie next to me  
> Heart is beating heavily  
> There's blood in your halo  
> Blood on your shirt

Browsing the internet was hard and confusing first, but Stanford caught on quickly. The same is not true for Bill - he's sitting cross-legged on the floor of Stanford's study, complaining endlessly about different things. He can't turn the laptop on. Stanford reaches over and presses the power button. He can't open a browser window. Stanford opens the Firefox shortcut. Eventually it just blends into one big complaint and then Bill is complaining about having to put effort into his work. He said he would help Stanford, but he didn't know how much  _effort_ he would have to put into helping.

 

He sighs and types _random guy that we've never seen before is in our house, what do we do?_ into the search bar. The results are all about real estate, and Bill sighs again, tries another search term: _help, I'm stuck with a weird old man who hates me in a stupid hick town, what do I do?_

 

No results.

 

Stanford, who has his head buried in some old book with writing that Bill can't decode, leans over to him and says: "I'll be checking your internet history, so don't go on any bad sites."

 

"There are bad sites?"

 

Stanford shakes his head. "No. No, forget that I said that."

 

"Now, what exactly qualifies as a 'bad site'?"

 

"Any website that doesn't give you information on our situation," Stanford snaps. "Get back to work."

 

"Okay, okay," Bill says. "Fine. What are  _you_ even doing? You looked like you just picked up a random book and started reading."

 

"That... actually  _is_ what I did."

 

"Oh," Bill says. Of  _course_ that's what he did. There are too many bookshelves in Stanford's study, and most of them look like they haven't been read for thirty years. Bill opens his mouth to ask Stanford about it, but stops - something inside of him says that it's a  _bad idea._ He doesn't look like he goes in here, much. White blankets cover up most of the room, and Bill thinks that he shouldn't ask about those either. It's odd. There are things that Bill just  _knows,_ down inside of him. It feels like a blade. It's odd. There are things that Bill just  _knows,_ down inside of him, like a blade. Most of these things have to do with Stanford. 

 

Things that Bill k n o w s :

 

Stanford Pines, deeper than a knife.

 

It's odd, again. He doesn't know that much about Stanford, yet he knows everything. Inside of him there are stars. On the outside, there is a light. If they had a story, if they had anything besides hatred, it would be about lights. Stars lighting up pitch black skies. Bill has only heard of these things. He wants to see them, at some point, but for now he can stare at the man in front of him.

 

It's disgusting, it's disgusting, it's  _disgusting,_ oh. Oh. It's -

 

"Have you found  _anything?_ "

 

"No," Bill admits. "Have you?"

 

Stanford ignores the question. "Let's switch," he grumbles. "I'll take the laptop and you take a look at the books. Just promise me that you won't desecrate them. Most of these are very, very old."

 

"Why would I desecrate them?" Bill asks. "I want to figure this out just as much as you do, pal."

 

"You only want to figure it out for selfish reasons," Stanford says, taking the laptop from him.

 

Bill stands up and picks a book without looking. "Yeah," he says, "but if you think about it, your reasons are selfish, too. I mean, you want to save the world or your brother or whatever. Why? What's so important about saving them? It's only important to you."

 

"You're describing  _selflessness,_ " Stanford corrects.

 

"The only person calling it selfless is you. Doesn't that seem a bit conceited? Like, think about it."

 

Stanford shuts up. Shit, Bill is _right._ Bill has been right about a lot of things, a lot of things that Stanford doesn't want to think about, doesn't want to imagine, doesn't want to confront. Things like: he's getting used to this. Bill being around. He's getting used to this and it hurts. They're sitting in his study and interacting like normal people, like Bill is truly human and _not_ a demon.

 

What a _ridiculous_ thought, Bill being truly human. He will never be truly human, he will always be a monster at his core. The only difference now is his form, and the fact that his voice has gotten a little bit less annoying, and how he seems comfortable in Stanford's black turtleneck.

 

The only difference now is the fact that he is standing across from Stanford and Stanford is staring at him - oh, he's _staring -_ and thinking about what it means to be human.

 

You only need a few things, Stanford decides, to be considered human. Emotions, morals, and love. Bill has none of these things, but especially the last one. Especially the loving. He doesn't know how to feel love. He has no emotions and no morals and he _certainly_ does not have the ability to feel love.

 

Stanford, however, _does_. He's sitting here and watching Bill and thinking about what it means to be human and he doesn't even know it until it taps him on the shoulder with cold fingers. It being - it being Bill. Bill Cipher.

 

Stanford takes his hand and places it back at his side. Bill frowns at having his hand removed, he wants to _touch,_ to feel. This is getting boring. He wants to have fun! Fun includes touching. He looks at Stanford and doesn't ask him _why._ Instead he says: "You've been staring at me for like ten minutes. Oh, and you haven't been doing any work, which exactly what you yelled at me for doing. Should I yell at you now?" He attempts to clear his throat, but it only makes a loud, metallic noise. "Stanford Pines, get back to work! Don't go on any bad websites! Be really boring and dumb and ignore me forever! Me,  _me,_ the only one who would ever -"

 

"Stop," Stanford says. He really, really doesn't want Bill to finish that sentence. He is afraid of how Bill would finish that sentence. He is afraid of everything, now. This is what Bill has done to him.

 

"I'll stop if you do something."

 

"What is it that you want me to do?" 

 

"Work," Bill says, " _duh._ "

 

"Really?" Stanford asks. "Is that really it? Because I've actually been doing things. All that you've been doing is messing around. You need to take this more seriously, Bill. Like I said, you're in danger here too."

 

"I am taking this seriously!" Bill says. "I'm serious! I'll stop messing around. I'll show you that I can do work! I'll make you regret ever saying that I'm slacking off."

 

"Okay," Stanford says. "I don't think you can do it, but go ahead. Go ahead! I challenge you to find a book and actually read it. Actually, I challenge you to find a  _helpful_ book and actually read it. I challenge you to draw logical conclusions from that book. I challenge you to do something useful for once. I challenge you to -"

 

He's stopped by Bill's hands reaching for his face and pulling him closer. Bill just wants Stanford to  _shut up,_ and Stanford has stopped talking so he decides that he's done well. He has Stanford's face in his hands and  _shit,_ what was he thinking? They're too close. Stanford is standing, frozen, in front of him. He's waiting for Bill to do something, to hurt him again. He might want this. He might not. He might want to push Bill away but he can't move. Neither of them can move. Bill can only watch Stanford's glance slowly move down to Bill's lips. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Oh, Bill has wanted this for too long and he never noticed it before now.

 

Stanford's eyes squeeze shut. "What the hell are you doing," he breathes, finally.

 

"I just wanted you to shut up and stop talking," Bill says. "Hey, look, you stopped talking!"

 

His eyes open again and then he's staring Bill straight in the eyes. "Take your hands off of me," he says slowly.

 

Bill's hands linger on Stanford's face. It feels prickly but smooth, and looking at it now, looking at it like this, he doesn't look bad. Beautiful, almost. If only he had a better word to describe it. Beautiful doesn't work. Beautiful implies that there is no horror. There is too much horror here. Bill is running his thumb across Stanford's cheeks.

 

"I said take them off."

 

Bill removes his hands and stuffs them in his pockets. "Okay."

 

What he doesn't say is  _sorry._

 

He feels  _sorry._

 

Stanford looks so broken and full of  _want_ and  _hatred_ and all that Bill can think is  _sorry._

 

It's so gross.

 

Stanford is so gross, making Bill feel like this.

 

Oh, if only Bill had freedom. Oh, if only Bill could run.

 

Wait. He can.

 

There's one way to get his freedom, there's one way to ensure that he never feels again:

 

He has to kill Stanford Pines.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of updates. Like I said in last chapter's notes, I'm really losing inspiration for this fic... Also, I wrote this chapter in a notebook during a very boring and long family dinner, so I had to type it all up and yeah...


	12. i'm no good for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm no good for you (no)  
> This heart ain't built for two so  
> Run away, run away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: slight nsfw

They stop looking, for a while, after The Incident. Stanford sits as far away from Bill as he can get, and scrolls through the internet absentmindedly. He doesn't have anything open - just the home screen, and he still doesn't know what he's looking for. Part of him hoped that he would open a book or a website and it would just  _click,_ but that's unrealistic and he knows it. Part of him hoped that he would find a way to defeat Ax immediately, and save everything. He wants to save everything. But it's getting dark, now, and he's getting tired. 

 

He glances at Bill, who is mumbling to himself. And he _closes his eyes._

 

He shouldn't open himself up to this vulnerability, but there's nothing he can do. There's nothing left that he can do.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't know why he's so tired. His sleep was fine and refreshing, but he felt like something was watching him. Something was watching him, but - it felt okay. He didn't mind. He should have cared. He should have woken up. He should have growled. He should have done something, something to fight this off. Kick. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth, amen. Bill was watching him. Bill watching him is something that he is used to but it will never stop haunting him.

 

And then Bill's hands are on his face again, suddenly, like a ghost. Bill is closing the space between them but he goes right for Stanford's neck, kissing into it in a way that is also like a ghost - light, gentle, but terrifying. He stands with Bill's mouth all over his neck and he wonders what Bill would do if he pulled Bill closer, if he let a noise escape - he thinks that Bill will laugh, but this is a dream and anything can happen in dreams. He stands and hates himself for it, hates Bill for it, because he  _has_ to hate Bill. Hating Bill is easy. Hating himself for letting Bill do this to him, even in a dream where nothing is real, is hard. 

 

Stanford pushes Bill back when it starts to get rough, when he starts to  _bite,_ and Bill's face looks broken. Scared. Until Stanford kisses him for  _real,_ this time, like he has never been touched, like Bill is a ghost who will fade away if he lets go or loosens or doubts.

 

Bill just looks surprised when Stanford pushes him down into a chair like he is ready to devour - if Bill was real and this wasn't a dream he would probably be horrified, because he's seen Stanford angry but  _oh,_ this is a different kind of anger, it's self-loathing and terror and gentleness and need and Bill has never seen Stanford like this before. It's a dream, however, and Stanford can only imagine Bill's feelings, can only imagine what Bill would think if this was real. He would never want this to be real. It can exist only in dreams, in secret places in his mind. 

 

He's letting this happen. He's  _letting_ this happen. He thinks that he will wake up and look at Bill and feel like vomiting. This is what he wanted thirty years ago, and this is what he wants now. Nothing ever changes here. He is still an animal. He is still tainted. He is still letting himself dream.

 

Bill is asking him what to do next - Stanford wants to take this further and the dream knows it. He only nods and shifts out of the chair, until Stanford is standing and Bill is kneeling and -

 

and -

 

 _We'll meet again_ is blasting through his ears, loudly. His eyes flutter open and he jumps - Bill has the laptop open on YouTube, and he's singing along to Vera Lynn's words. Stanford trembles and he feels like he's caught again, in chains again, being tortured again, again again again. 

 

"Bill," he says as he shakes. "Turn that off."

 

"You were sleeping," Bill says. "And it was really boring. So, I found YouTube... somehow... and decided to wake you up! Man, this song is so pretty. Dance with me."

 

"Turn that off," Stanford says, firmly. 

 

"Make me."

 

"I'm serious," Stanford says, and his voice starts to break. "Turn that off. P-put something else on, I-I don't care. Just not that."

 

Bill stares at him and pauses the video. "What's got you so angry? What happened?"

 

"You."

 

"I didn't do anything," Bill says. 

 

"Yes, you did," Stanford sighs. "You don't know it, but you did."

 

Bill closes the laptop. "Geez," he says. "I can't win with you."

 

"You will  _never_ win with me."

 

"I'm trying," Bill says. "That should be enough. And I was serious."

 

"Serious about what?"

 

"I have a feeling I'm a really, really good dancer."

 

Stanford rolls his eyes. "No."

 

"I'll turn the song back on if you don't."

 

" _Fine,_ " Stanford says. "You're probably a terrible dancer."

 

Bill takes his hand and Stanford prepares himself for the worst. Bill spins and dips him and Stanford smiles slightly, almost like he's enjoying this -

 

 _Oh._ He's on the floor, now. Bill is on top of him, straddling him. 

 

"What are you doing?" Stanford asks.

 

Bill says nothing in response, he only places his hands around Stanford's neck and squeezes. Stanford is choking. He should have expected this. He's trying to scream but his voice doesn't work - his hands do, however, and he punches Bill in the face. Bill looks away and laughs slightly, and then squeezes harder.

 

Stanford stops struggling. "Do it," he says. "Kill me."

 

"Yeah," Bill says. "That's what I'm doing right now, or did you not notice?"

 

"I want to die," Stanford says. It's only half of a lie, only a sliver of it - he dreamed of Bill, and now he wants to die. He is horrible and tainted and he  _hates_ himself.

 

"What?" Bill asks.

 

"I want you to kill me."

 

Bill is so startled that his grip loosens for a moment, and then he's against the floor and Stanford is on top of him, holding his hands down.

 

"You should have tried harder," Stanford says. "Come on, kill me. Give it your best shot."

 

Bill does nothing. "You look good on top of me like this," he says.

 

"Shut up. Try harder."

 

"We should do this more often."

 

"Shut up and  _kill me already._ "

 

"Why don't we just forget about the whole 'me attempting you choke you to death' thing?"

 

"You're trying to get out of this," Stanford says. His hands tighten around Bill's wrists and Bill's eyes widen.

 

"Duh," Bill says. 

 

"Why? Why do you want to kill me?" Stanford says, and stops. "I can't believe I just asked you that. You're a  _demon,_ of course you want to kill me. How could I be so blind?"

 

"I'm not a demon," Bill says. "I want you dead because you -"

 

There's a knock at the door.

 

"What?" Stanford asks. "Who's there?"

 

The door opens and half of Ax's face peeks through. 

 

"Oh," he says. "Oops! This isn't the bathroom, and it looks like I've interrupted something here, so I'm just gonna..."

 

Stanford climbs off of Bill, slowly.

 

"No," he says.

 

"No?" Ax repeats. 

 

"I mean - you weren't interrupting anything! Please, come in. I'd like to talk to you about a few things while you're here."

 

Ax looks down at Bill on the floor and he gags slightly. This is  _disgusting._

 

He can't fathom that part of him could be this weak.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys! Long time, no see, huh? I'm really sorry about that. I got caught up with life and stuff. But anyway, I'm back! Yay!

**Author's Note:**

> Added 2/29: Listen to the playlist that accompanies this fic [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL7EXZdRHwOi5oqQRbfRVDm_HcsBM37gl0)! It contains spoilers for upcoming chapters. ;) ;)


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